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LONDON: -^, 



Aherd^en, Brown & Co. 
Alnwich, Smith. 
AshftiTd. ipixnxu^*; Elliott. 
Ashton-under  f.ine fj Stale'/ 

Bridge, Cliiniiinyhara. 
Banhuri/, 3. G. Uusher. 
Rnntjor, Shone 
Barnet. Cowing. 
Barnstaple. Itrightwell. 
Bath. Gforifi-. 
f-Urminijhntn, Langbridge. 
Blnrhhurn. Morrice. 
Boltim, Ileiiton He 8on«. 
Bo%fnn, Nol.le. 
Bo'irn. Danirlls. 
Bradford, Inkersley & Co. 
Brnintree. Josn'lyne. 
Bridfjort, Tucker. 
Brittol, Vickcry. 
, Burnley, Satcliffe. 
Bury, Lankfster; Thomp- 

Bury, (/./inc.) ('rompton. 
Cambridge, St^vrnfon. 
Canterbury. Itarne«. 

Oirdi/T. Hinl. 
Carlisle. Thiimam. 
Carnarvon, Potter & Co. 
Chat/uim, Biirrill. 
CJ^lmsfurd, Guy. 
Cfif^Uenhnm. Ix)ve»y. 
Chertiey. Wetton. 
Chenter. Seacome; Hard- 
ing; Poole jtf BotiU. 
Chichester. Glover. 
Clitfteroe. Whalley. 
Cockermouth. Baily. 
Cofrhest/tr, Taylor. 
Colnff. Earnshaw. 
Covenf.Ti/, Merridew. 
Der}jff. Wilkin^ & Sod. 
DfvizeK, Handle. 
Demmport, Hyers. 
Donca$ter. Bnioke & Co. 
Df/ver, Batclu'llor, 
/hibtin, Curry Sc Co. 
Dundee. Shaw. 
Durham. Andrews, 
Edinburgh, Olivet 8i Boyd 
Exeter, Ilannaford. 

Falmouth. Philp. 
Faversham, Thisclton. 
(ilasgow, Murray. 
Gloucester. Jew. 
Greenock. Neill & Fraser. 
Guernsey , Moss. 
Guildford. Hussells. 
Hali/ar, Whith-y & Booth. 
Harrogate, Blackburn. 
Haslingden, Road. 
Hereford. Child. 
Hertford, Simson. 
Hoddesdon, Tuffs. 
fforiicastle, Babington. 
Haddert/ietd, Lancashiro 
Hull. Wilson ; Goddard Sc 

Huntingdon, Edis. 
Htjlhe.Tiften. - 
Ipswich, Deck. 
Jf-ney. Le Ber. 
Kendal, Hudson Se Co. 
Kettering, Dash. 
Kidderminster, Pennell, 
Kimbulton, Ibbn. 

Kirby Lonsdale, Foster. 
Lancaster, Milner. 
Launceston, Cater. 
Leamington, Meiridfw. 
Leeds. Robinsou. 
Leicester, Ctmilie. 
Lewes, Baxter. 
Lincoln, Brook*? & Sons. 
Liverpool, Hii;'he8. 
Llandoverif. Kecs. 
London, B«*ry»'r. 
Long Sutton. Swain. 
Lyme Regis, Dunstflr. 
Lynn, Smith. 
Mncclesjield, Swinn*'rt»)n. 
Manchester, Bancks and 
Co. ; Webb & Simnis. 
March, Serjeiint. 

Maryport, Adair. 
Mold and Holywell. Lloyd. 
Monmouth. Hcaih. 
Nca'h, Hayr/avd. 
Xcu-cnftle-on-Tr/nr. Fiulay 

and Co. ; Currio and 


Newark, Ridge. 
Northampton, Birdsall. 
Norwich, Mnskett; Smith. 
Nottingham, Wright. 
Orford, Slatter. 
Penrith, Allison. 
Peterborough, CHftons. 
Plymouth, Nettletou. 
Portsmouth, Comerford. 
Retford, Turvey. 
Richmond, Bowman & Co. 
Roysfon, Warren. 
Rugeley. Leonard. 
Salisbury. Brodie Sc Co. 
Snndbach, Lindnp. 
Scarborough, The.ikston. 
Sheffield, luuocnDt. 
Sherborne, Penny. 
Shrewsbury, Eddowi^s. 
Sidmouth, Harvey. 
.Sittingbourn, Coulter. 
Skipfon. T'lsker. 
Southumptoa. Skcltou. 
Sti\ffhydshitf! Potft^ries, 
Watts Lane End. 

Stamford, Mortlock; Rooe. 
Stockport, (,*laye. 
Stockton, Robinson. 
Strq/fham, Albin. 
Tavistock, Hflmn. 
Teignmnuth, Croydon. 
Totness, Hannaford. 
VlversUine, Tvsoii. 
ff'ake/ield, Stan(i.'td. 
rVare. Batty. 
ff^arwich. Merridew ; So- 

H'eymoHth. Comm'ms. 
IFhilby. Rotl-.TR. 
fyhitehaven, Gibso-i. 
JViqton, Ismtiy. 
TVinchestcr. ^licoh & Co. 
tVorcester, Dciifliton. 
IVorhington, Ki,kron«l. 
IForthtng, Carti-r. 
Yarmouih, Alfxaiider. 
Yeoril. Porter 
York, BelU-rtw. 

Amstttrdam. Nnyler St C'o. Berlin, A. Ash^r. Hamburg. Perthesfe Beescr. f^ptic. Black, Yonng. and Young, f of London.) Paris, Mennis. 

RuUvrdam. T. Marshall. — St. PttcrsLvrgh. A. Aslier. — United Slates of America, W. Jackson, Now York and Cincinnati. 





AeknowledgmeDt of Errors, Seed oa, 55 

Addison, extract from, 47 

Affecting Incident, H 

Aix-la-Chaiielle, anecdote of a Bell at. 

Alceste. Shipwreck of the, 218 _ 

Alfxandria, the Pestilence at, 95 

Alison, extract from, 248 

All FdoIb' Day, Notice of, 111 

Almanack, lines presented willi cue, 
on New Year's Day. 32 

American Chief and Scotch HighUader, 
affecting anecdote of, 13'i 

American Steam-vessel, 231 

Amsterdam, some account of, 34 —  
Public Buildintrs, 35— Hirths, 
Marriages, and Burials in, 38— 
Charitalile Institutions, 39— Dress 
of Inhabitants, 39— Government, 
39— Dykes, 40 

Amusement, Diversion. Recreation, and 
Relaxation, delinitioa of, by Jones 
of Nayland, 107 

Anchovy Fishery. 226 

Angelo,'Michael, Anecdote of, 173 

Animals, on the Structnre of, 32 

Aphorisms. U5. 132. 157. 159, 179, 230, 

Appointments by Will, 227 

Arab, ludicrous mistake of one respect- 
ing tlie telescope, 149 

Arabian Proverbi, 27, 56 

Arabs, on the abundance of metaphors 
in their language. 181 

Assaye, Battle of. its cause and con- 
sequences, 100 

Atmosphere, its changes illustrated, 11 

A%alanches in Switzerland, 118 

Augustine, St., 237 

Augustus, the Roman Emperor, anec- 
dote of. 179 

Bad Example, effects of. 150 
Bacon, extract from, 237 
Itadajoz. Assault and Capture of, 188 
Barometer, on the Use of, 63 
Barrow, strleclions from, 232, 233 
Basire, Isaac, aphorism of, 107 
Bath, the Seipeuts', a Legend of Nas- 
sau, 64 
Bees. Superstitions relating to, 203 
Bells, tlieir origin and use, 147 
Berkeley, Bishop, remarks by. 91, 159 
Birds, maternal care and iutelligeuco 

of. 224 
Birds' Nests, Pensile, notice of, 116 
Birraiugliam, some a^Troutit of, 10 
Blair, extracts fr^m, 55. 200 
Blind, power of the Sens«-s of Hearing 

and Feeling in tiie, 206 j 

Bloo<l, on the quantity ct, iu Animals, 23 I 
Boat and Ass, a Htrange case, 91 
Bootan, Rajalt of. hts mode of tea- i 

drinking, 171 
Bowles. Rev. W. I... Verses by, 27 
British India, its importance to ttie 
Merchants and Manufacturers uf 
Great BriUin, 242 
British Officer, his wife, and baggage- 
ass, 19 
Britons, ancient, and Saxons, their 

Sliips des(;ril>e(l, 73 
Brock, village of, 39 
Bruce and tlie Spider, 158 
Biidgell, selection from, 237 
Burial, Mode of, in different aget and 

countries, 21 
Burke, extracts from, 23, 32, 243 
Burleigh, Lord, remark by, 16 

Carisbrooke Castle, description of, 191 

Lines on, 192 

Carlyle, Mr., lines by, 207 

Carrier Pigeons, 200 

Cellini's, Uenvenuto, amusing history 
of his cast of Perseus, 17' 

Ceylon Inches, 159 

Chaeto<lon Rostratus, 56 

Charade, by W. M. Praed. Esq., 48 

Chatham, His Majesty's Dockyard at. 

Childhood, Recollections of, 173 

Christian Parents, duty of, 195 

Christian PilgrimaKe, ihe, 208 

Christianity and False Philosophy con- 
trasted, 195 

Cleanliness, remarks on, 95 

Ciiff Waggon, 92 

Clothing Clubs, 58 

Coatta, or Spi'ler- Monkey, 56 

CoUridge, extract frnm, 143 

CoDKWBce, Remark on, by South, 107 
■— Lines on, 30 

Content, lines to, 20 
Cornwall, the Copper mines of. 43 
Coverdale, Miles, remark by, 159 
Coulacauara Snake and Daddy Quashi, 

Cow-tree of South America, 131 
Jreator, works of, Remarks on their 

immensity, 140 
Croker, Mr., anecdote by, 231 
Curiosity, right employrnent of, 232 

Date-tree and the Arabs. 102 
Dead, treatment of, in Thibet, 46 " 
Death, Lines on. by Sir Walter Scott. 

De la Bruy^re, remark by, 20 
Dew, Illustration of, 11? 
Dick, -extract from, 23 
Difficulty of making a Will. 181 
Dijon, the Church of Notre Dame at, 42 
Discontent, remark on, by Ixaak Wal- 
ton. 23 

 — . remarks on its absurdity. 

Disjieusaries, Self-supporting, their be- 
neficial effects, S7 
Domestic Peace, remark on, 132 
Dorado (or Dolphin) and Flying-flsh, 

a description of, 103 
Douro, Passage of, by tlie British, 150 
Dwight, extracU from, 88. 150 

Eccentricity of Genius, 191 

Edinburgh, Trade and Manners of, 
seventy years ago, 250 

Edward tlie Confessor's Chapel, 212 

Egglestone Priory, its Ruins described, 

Egyptian Antiquities, !. 154;— II. 185. 

Electrical Eels, curious mode of fishing 
for, with horses, 144 

Elmo, St., Castle of, at Naples, 106 

Eminence from humble life, 5 

Emulation, its effect, 91 

Ktjiield, extract from, 8 

Epictetus, quotation from, 69 

EpiUph, old, 207 

Etawah, East India StatiAn, described, 

Evening Tliought, 47 

Experimental Science, Familiar Illus- 
trations of, 246 

Fame, Remark on, by Fuller, 58 
Female Virtues, Remarks on, by Mrs. 

King. 55. 135, 159 
Ferifuson the Astronomer, account of. 5 
Fidelity and Sagacity of a Dug, 199 
Filial Respect, i53 
Finding a Guinea. 159 
Floods, great, in the North of S<*<>1- 

land, 59 
Florence, Ducal Palace of, 2 
Flowers, remaiks on the love of, 102; 

— on their CuUivation, 132 
Flyiug-fish and Dolphin, 103 
Foreigners encouraged by Henry the 

Eighth, 202 
Forest Scenery of South America, 173 
Freshwater Bay and Cavern, 160 
Freya, or Friga, the Saxon Idol, dc 

scribed, 135 

Gigantic Trees, 248 
Gilpin, interesting story from, 30 
Gloucester Cathedral, account of, 66 
Verses on tlie 

Chimes of, 67 
Glow-worin, the, 220 
Goat, singular Dexterity of, 133 
(*<>lden Example, 99 
Good Wives, tliree things which they 

should and should not resemble, 200 
Gossip, Description of, by Mrs. Opie, 

Gratitude, pleasing inat\nce of, 69 
Gray's Elegy, supplement to, 5 
Guernsey, the Island of. 234 
Gymnotus, or Electrical Eel of South 

America, 144 

Hall, Bishop, selections from, 27, 4>', 
110, 112. 207,24;j. 24? 

Hall, visit to the Salt Mines of, l56 

Hockluyt. extract from. 173 

Halystone, account of our Lady's 
Well at, 20 

Hand and Eye, Illustrations of, 56 

Hatton, Viscount, Honderful preser- 
vation of, 54 

Hebcr, Bisliop, apologue by, 174; — 
Lines by, 148, 158 

HcDry the Seventh's Chapel, 213 

Herbarium, Hints for tlie Formation 

of, 107 
Herlwrt, aphorism of, 107 ; — Lines 

by, 207 
Hermit, reply of, to a Profligate, 67 
Heme's Oak, in Windsor Park, 181 
Herrivs, John, remark by, 27 
Herring-fishery, at Tarbert, 254 
Hieroj,'lyph!C9, Egyptian. 155 
Higlilamler, anec<lote of, 48 
House Sparrow, Notice uf, 26 
Horne,Bishop,Rem;trksby,32, 107,237 
Hull, in Yorkshire, 146 
Human Voice, on tlie variety of tones 

in, 54 
Humble Life, a Tale of, 94 
Humility, lines on, by Beattie, 115 
Hymn, paraphrastic of the Lord's 

Prayer, 102 

Indestructibility of Matter, 246 
Industry another word for Happiness. 

remarkable instance of, 114 

Inscription to the Memory of ship- 
wrecked Seamen, 93 

— on a Bell, 131 

Irish Medical Manuscripts, 143 
Islands of Ireland, noiice of, 133 

Jesse, extracts from, 5, 180. 203 

Jews, modern, description of their 

Funeral Ceremoni.-s, 22 
Job, Hook of, Remarks on, by Town- 
son, 142 
Johnson, Dr., Anecdotes of, 46, 136 

Selections from. 26, 54, 62. 

64. 67, 94, 107. 135, 148, 15d, 159, 
207, 230. 231, 238. 243, 247 
Johnston, Sir Alexander, Ins Evidence 
relative to Colonel Mackenzie's 
Oriental collections, 242 
Jones of Nayland, selections from, 56, 

Sir William, lines by. 207 

Jonson, Ben, extract from', 248 
Juvenile Vagrancy, Success of Experi- 
ments for its Prevention, 7 

Keate, lines on Westminster Abbey, 

by, 216 
Keith, rem:irk on Religion, by, 230 
King, Mrs. on the blessing of Family 

Affection, 110 

on Female Tenderness, 13j, 159 

remark by, 173 

Kioum, Birmese, or Royal Convent, 58 

Knaresborougl) ('astle, 25 

Knots, various kinds of, remarks on, 

Knowledge, remark on, \>v Dwight, 88 

thirst of the Irish lur, 149 

Koordistau and its tuhabitanlg, 68 

La)x)ur, its division, 14 

Lady Jane Grey, anecdote of, 191 

La M6Iuse i, French fri;,'ate), account 

of the wreck of, 138 
Larch, Cultivation uf, in Scotland, 251 
Leeds, 196 

Light, illii-strations of, 148 
Lightnin;;, illustration of, 193 
Lime Kiln, accident at a, 143 
J.inea to a Friend on his Birtli-day. 207 
fJanthony Abbey, 22.^ 
Loan-funds, Reniaiks on, 98 
Locke, Remarks by, 173 
London, the Port of, some account of, 

161; — iu Docks. 166;— its Steam 

Navigation, 167 
Lotus-tree, description jf, .57 

IjOtus-tree, (lescripli 
Luther, Martin, 194 

Mackenzie, Colonel, liis Oriental col- 
lections, 242 

Madagascar, the Island of, 203 

Mndiid, Charitable Institutions in, 173 

Malayan Forests, gramleur uf their 
vegetation, 118 

Manners, tlwir influence on Societ>, 23 

Mason, extract from, 54 

Maternal Affection, remarks on, 150 

Maternal Courage, 46 

May Day, verses on, by Bishop He- 
ber. 158 

Maxims, 190 

Meerschaum Pipes, Maiiufaeture of, 47 

Metil, the Art of casting Figures tu 

Mines of Great Britain, 43 

Mirage of the Ea^t, optical illusions 
produced by, 143 

Misery and Happiness, 191 

Modesty and Arrogance, 207 

Mohurrum, Ceremonies of, 53 

Money, remarks ou its origin, 91 

Monitiirv Lines, 95 

Monkey'Trick, 231 

Moon, the Idol of, 15 

More, Sir Thomas, and bis Residvn'ex, 

Moore, remark by, 173 
Moths and Butterflies, 243 
Mummies, Kgyi)tian, 186 
Mummy, an Egyptian, address to, bv 
Horace Smith, Esq., 72 

answer to Ihe 

address, 155 
used as a Drug, 237 

National Statues, 114, 178 

Natural Plienomena, Familiar lllus 
tiatious of,— 
VII. The Trade Winds, 6 
VIII. (Hianges in the Atmosphere, 1 ! 
IX. On the Use of llie Barometer,6;J 
X. Dew, 117 
XL Lightning, 198 

Naval Power of England, progress oT, 
fiom Alfred to Henry VI I., 73, 74; 
—from Henry VIII. to George II., 
7^. 76; — during the reigns ol 
George III. and IV., 76, 80 

Navy, Royal, of Great Britain, some 
account of, 73 

Neff, Felix, Biographical Notice of, 6^ 

Negroes, their thirst for learning, 54 

New Dye. 197 

Newspajwr, the first English, 2.11 

New Zealanders, account of their re- 
ception of a British Resident, 134 

Notes from a Traveller's Scrap Boot* 
No. I., 183; No, II., 244 

Oaths, reflections on, by Tyler, 174 
Obelisks, remarkable, near Borou''h- 

bri<lge, Yorkshire, 141 
Oriental Apologue, 173 
O spare mv Flower, 231 
Oslend, the Bells of. 27 

Painting, curious Anecdote of a, 197 

Palazzo Pitti, description of, 3 

Papjrus Plant, 208 

Patna, description of, 52 

Persian Story, 206 

Personal Property, who may m;ikr 

Wills of, 226 
Peterlmrough Cathedral, 130 
Plane-tree, remarkable, 51 
Poet, the Duty of. Waller's opinion 

concerning, 56 
Poet's Comer, 215 
Poetry, on the beneficial effects resuh 

ing from, 20 
Polypi, descrijjtion of. 84 
Porteus, Bishop, on Christianitv, 159 

 on Patriotism, 23/ 

Pratt, extract from, 243 

Prejudice, anecdote co-iceniing, 143 

Preservation, extraordinary instance 

of, 233 
Property, its division, 14 
— explanation of the diffeieiin 

between personal and real, 182 
Proverbs aliihabetical Collection ol, 

31, 83, 199 
Provi.lence, Divi.ia, remark o.i, 30 
Punctuality, amusing anecdote of, 87 

Quarh-s, extract from, 4? 

Quiet Rebuke from a Superior, 136 

Raffles, Sir Stimford, extracts from ln^ 
Life and (^Tresijondence, 85 

Rainbow, double, 88 

Reading and Writing, remarks ou, 5."> 

Religious Duties, remark on, 71 

Remark on Friendship, by Dr. Jolm 
son, 54 

Rinkenfoss Waterfall, 88 

Rokeby, in Yorkshire, Account of, S9 

Sabbath Bell, .^nes on, 143 

Sacred Poetry, (ui the ililTicuIty of, 55 

Salt, its properties and, 223 

Lake at Loonar, account of, 22 1 

Sanderson, Dr., humility of, 191 
Saturday Niglit, lines on, by a Jcinnev- 

man Mechanic, 136 
Savings" Banks, their advantages, lit 
Saxon Idols, 3, 15, 24, 47. 71, 135, S.'l*.* 
Scotland, great Floodf in the North uf. 

.Sketches i>. the Hitihlaui* 

and Islands of. 250 


Scott, sir Walter. KphoHsm of. IS2 
Senvn, new, at Westminster AI»Ih'v. 9S 
Arulptiirp, Kjtyplian, remarks on, 153 
Sea, Sigus of llie, vprses on, 107 
S^^nter, the Saxon Idol, described, 239 
Secrecy, remark on, 000 
Setting Sim. lines on, 51 
SJiea, or Butler Tre.-. of Africa, 156 
Ship-launch, description of^ 51 
SUipwreck of tlie Mi'dusa. 138 

Alresle, 218 

Shipwreck, Preser%aiiou from, bv tliy 

Cliff M agpm. 93 
Shrew Mouse, the, 247 
Silent Monitors, 246 
Sin, Disliop Wilson on its first De^iu- 

niuK«. 5S 
Skelton, elections from, 143, 171, 182, 

191, 192, 195, 247 
Snake, South AnuTicjin. % 
Snow-storms on llie Andes, 96 
Society IV., on llic various states of, 14 
~ —  v., Origin of Money ; KITi-ct of 

Kmnlation. 91 
VI., Desire of Gain ; Kmploy- 

raent of (Jain; (^npilal, 187 
South, remark by, 207 
Southev, Selections from, 32, 55, 62, 94, 

103, 191. 207 
South-sea lslan<Iers, their mode of se- 
pulture, 21 

Spider, remarks on, 56 
St. Hernards, h Niftht ut, 183 
Steam -Vfssfl, American, 231 
Strawberries, the mode by which 

Ixindon is supplied with, 223 
Sumatra. Superstilion of tho unlives 

t< 118 
Sun, the Idol of, 8 
Sunday Thought, 47 
Superstitions relating to Be«.i, 203 

TallKjt, Miss, extract tcom, 243 

Tale, Arabian, 143 

Tavlor, Jereniv, selections from, 27, 102, 

 136, 159,246 
Temple, Sir W.. remark by, 64 
Tertiillian, selection from, 174 
Thales of Miletus, Sentences of, 12 
Thebes, ancient, and its TempU-.s, 154 
Theories, Cuvier's opinion of, 51 
Thibet, treatment of the Dead in, 46 
Thor, the Saxon Idol, 72 
Thoughts on a well-s\)ent Life, 30 
Tiberias. Sea of, description of, 171 
Ti;,'i'r, providential e8ca|>e from, 13 
Time, Remarks on, 142 
Titus, memorable exclamation of. 247 
Tivoli, Town and Cascade of, 18 
Toobow, king of, anecdote of, 1 18 
Torres Vedras, the Lines of, 174 
Tourist*. Scottish, 252 

Trade Winds, Illustration of. 6 
Travelling in Switzerland, 244 
Trees characterized. 53 

remarks on their Renewal, 180 

Trinity House, the, 167 
True-friend, description of, S 
Truth, Divine, remark on, 62 

• adherence to, reniark on, 94 

Tuisco, the Saxun Idol, 24 
Turkev-cock and Hen, ludicrous anoc- 

do'teof. 112 
Turkish Martyr, affecting story of, 42 
Tyuaniouth I'riory, 3 

Via M;Ua, Alpine Road of. Account of 

a visit to, 244 
Victories, great Naval, 77, 80 
Vienna, some account of, 122 ; — occu- 

Patiaa f by the French, 123; — 
'ubUc Buildings of, 124; — its 
Churcnes, 125; — Trade and Slanu- 
factures of, 126;— pilgrimages of 
its Inhabitants to Mariazell, 128 
Vimiera, Repulse of the French at, 118 
Virtue and Vice, 150 

Uninterrupted Happiness, 207 

Wandipore, in TTiibet, its Bridge anif 

Castle, 88 
Wellington, Duke of, anecdote of, 158 
Shield, description of, 81, 

100. 118, 150, 174. 188 
Westminster Abiwy, account of, 210 
— new Choir-st^reen 

in, 98 
■' Hospital, history and de- 

scription of, 1(0 
Wliittington and his Cat. 201 
Wight, the Isle of. No. I., 160; No. IL, 

Wilberforce, remark on Religion by, 

Wilson, Bishop, remark by, 58 
William III.. Statue of iu St. James's- 

square, 114 
William Rufus, his favourite Oath, 157 
Wills, Directions iur making, 181, 226 
Wisdom and Integrity, 132 
Witchcraft, Punislimeut of, 231 
Woden, the Saxou Idol, account of, 47 
Wonders out of Nothing, 54 
Wotton. Sir Henrv, his uying remarks, 

Wykeham, William of, 

notice of, 115 

Walton, I/aak, selections EVom, 14, 54, York, Duke of, Statue of, in C'arltou 
95, 120, 174 ; gardens, 178 


Pnge 2, col. I, line 14 from Iwttom./or Palazzo Pitti. read Palazzo Vccchio. 

— 2, — 2, line 19 from bottom, for It is, &c. read The I'alazzo Vecchio; 

and line 13 ft-om bottom, for the palace, read Palazzo Pitli. 

— 72, — 2, line II, for Mr. Roscoe, read Mr. Horace Smith. 

167. — 2, Article Stkam Navioation. We have received a pamphlet, 

entitled A Brief Niirrafire, proving the Right uf the late William 
SvMiNOToN, Civil Engineer, to be considered the Inventor of Stenm Land 
Carriitye Locomotion, and also of Steam Narigation. From the state- 
ments of the author, Mr. RnnEiiT BowiK.nnd the documents he has pro- 
duced, it is evident that IIknrt Bell availed himself of his knowledge 

of Mr. Symington's pHns, and of an unauthorized inspection of the 

models of his apparatus, in constructing the boats upon which his 
unfair claims to the invention were founded. 

Mr. John Kay, of Rochdale, has also written, under the impres- 
sion that Mr. Bell was present when he, Mr. Kay, suggested the idea 
uf working small boats liy band-niHchinery, and larger vessels by 
steam-engines. Mr. Kay is, however, evidently mistjiken, as he states 
the conversation to which he alludes to have taken place at Liverpool, 
iu 1796 or 1797, nnd Mr. Symington had actually worked a boat by 
steam-machinery in 1788. 


Alceste, shipwrecked Crew of Uie, 217 
AmslercUun, City of, 33 

Royal Palace nt, 36 

Exchange at, ISI 

Auchovios, method of curing, 225 

H.ilgownie, Brig of, 61 

Barometer. Illustrations of. 11. 12, G3 

Heaufort-Uouse. Chelsea, 221 

lietSy Cains ashore, 108 

iJiiniesc Kiouni, or Royal Convent, 57 

lltrmiugham, Bull-riu:; at, 

—  — new Town Hall at. 16 

Butter-tree, leaf and fruit of, 156 

Carisbrooke Castle, Isle of Wijjht, 192 
(*hff>todon Ro-itratus, 56 
*;iiff W.iggon. 92 

— a Ship iu distress as- 
sisted by, 93 
Coaita, or Sjiider Monkey, 56 
Cotton-grass, biuad-leavt-d, 109 
(.'rushing -mi II. section of.* 45 
Custom-iiouaei London, (the old,) 161 

Devil's Arrows, 141 

Dijon, Church of Nutr^ Dame at, 41 

Dorado, or Dolphin, 103 

pursuing tlie Fly- 

tnj;-flsh. 104 
Dtioolly Castle, 256 

i;dinhnrgh, view of. 249 
Ldwnrd the Fourth, uliips of. 77 
Kgglestone Abbey, IJuiiiHof. 06 
Kgj'ptiftD Mnmnu' and ('.ise, 153 
,- .-.-^ Mumm'itfs, 185 

Klephant, support of the head of, 32 
Llk, Head and Neck of. 3^ 
tlnio. St , Castle of at Naples, 105 
Ltawah, Ghaut or Landingplacoof, 28 

Florer.ce, Olil Ducal Palace at, 1 
Fowev ConsoU Cupiier-miue, Corn- 
wall, 44 
Freobnrn, Bridge of. 61 
Frestiwater Cavern, Isle of Wight. 160 
Funus and his family in the tloud. 60 

(Jloucester Cathedral, 65 
(JIOH-worm. Male and Female, 220 
<i'oat, singular dexterity of, 133 
(iiosbeiik. Pensile, Nests of, 116 
<iucrnscy, view of, 233 
Gyninotus, or Llcctiic Eel, 144 

Hair-grnss, TurfV. 108 
Henry the Third' shipping of. 76 
Heme's <>ak. in Windsor Park, 181 
Hospice on M<»unt St. Bernard, 184 
Hull, in Yorkshire. 145 

Idol of the Snn. 8 

Moon, 16 

Tuisco, 24 

Woden, 48 

Thor, 72 

Kriga, 136 

' Si-ater, 240 

Inverary Castle, 253 

Jigging Machine used in Cupper- 
miues, 45 

Kerr's House during the tlood. 61 j 

alter ihe Ihod. 61 j 

King William the Third, statue of, 113 
Knaresborougli Castle, ao 
Knots. 23!*., 237 

Koovds, 68 ! 


Launch of His Majestv's ship Water- 
loo, 49 
Leeds, Corn Exchange at, 196 
Light, illustrations of, lig. 1, 148 

. — ,ig. 2. 149 

Ling, Common Heath, lt)8 
Llauthony Ablxjy, distant view uf, 228 

Ruins ol", 229 

Loch Tarbert, 252 

Luther's room, at Krfuvt, 193 

Mackenzie. Colonel, and the Brahmins, 

Madagascar, Natives of, 205 
Medusa, Crew of. on the Raft, 137 
Metallic Veins, Course of, 44 

Old Oak, in its decayed state. 180 
the renevuMl Tree. 180 

Papyrus Plant. 208 
I'atua. View in tlic (Hly of, 59 
Peterborough Cathedral, 129 
Polvpe, the fresh-«ater, 84 
Polypody, loWd, 109 

Rhamnns Lotus 157 
Rokeby. Abbey Bridije at, 89 

Saardam, House of Peter Uie Great at, 

Salt Lake at Loonar, 224 
Screen, new, in Westminster Abbey, 97 
Sovereign of the Seas, 80 
Statue m our Lady's Wwll at llaly 

stone, ^'i 
Steam-vessel, American, 23ii 
Sundew, Round-leaved, 108 

Tiberias, the Sea of, 172 
Tiger retreating into tlie Juuglt, 13 
Tivoli, Market-place of, 1? 
Trinity-house, Tower hill, 1G5 
Tyuemouth Priory, Ruins of, 4 

Via Mala, view of the, 245 

Vienna, leading thoroughfare in, 121 

Imperial Palace at, 124 

Church of St. Charles Bono 

mseus, 128 

Wandipore, Bridge and Castla of, 88 
Wellington Shield, Centre of, 81 

— First compartment, 


Second ditto, ISC 

Third ditto. 15i2 

^ Fourth ditto. 176 

. Fifth ditto. 189 

Westminster Abbey, view of, 209 
nave of, 216 

 HospitiU, 169 

Whittington and his Cat, 201 
William the Comjueror, ships of, 7 

York, Statue of tho Duke uf, IT 

M E 


NO 97. 




4"^.", 1834. 

< Prick 
} One Penny. 


Vol. IV 




[January 4, 


Our engraving represents the Palace of Leopold, 
(jrand Duke of Tuscany, situated in the great square 
of Florence, a point of much attraction to strangers 
visiting that celebrated city. It is a good specimen 
of the architecture of Florence, where the buiklnigs 
are ancient and lofty, while its spacious palaces 
the remnant of flourishing periods, are of a stern and 
soml)re appearance, but look strong in their old age. 
In the construction of the Ducal Palace, for instance, 
we can trace, throughout, uncommon solidity, and a 
plentiful use of rich materials, but an utter disdain 
of every thing that is merely ornamental. 

Florence (in Italian, Firenze, or Fiorensa,) con- 
tinues, in many respects, to answer to its name, 
which signifies T/ie Flourishing. It is situated on 
both banks of the river Arno, nearly at the head 
of the broad and fertile vale which stretches to 
Pisa, and thence to the sea; and the charming 
tract of country in which it stands, is called the 
Garden of Tuscany. The road along the banks of 
the river, between Pisa and Florence, presents a 
succession of fine and varied prospects, greatly 
depeniling, however, for their beauty, on the sea- 
son ; as the Arno, w hich crosses Florence, is, in 
the heat of summer, a shallow and mean-looking 
stream, flowing in the midst of a very broad bed, 
and is at times fordable; but, when swollen by rains, 
or the melting of the snow on the mountains, it 
becomes a wide and deep river. In the height of an 
Italian summer, also, travelling in the day is often 
irksome and fatiguing, on account of the excessive 
heat ; a circumstance which alone would take away 
from the enjoyment of any scenery, however lovely. 

Florence is, in form, nearly an oval, and contains 
a population of about 80,000 persons. Its delightful 
position, sheltered by hills, many of them well culti- 
vated, which again are overtopped by the snow-clad 
Apennines ; the vineyards and olive-grounds in its 
neighbourhood; the various gems of art which it 
contains, in pictures, statues, monuments, and noble 
buildings; the cleanliness of the hotels, and the 
mildness and civility of its inhabitants; all these 
advantages have obtained for Florence the title of the 
" Athene of Italy," and render it an agreeable residence. 
The number of foreigners living there is generally 
greater than that in any other Italian city, with the 
exception of Rome : among these are many English. 
It would give us pleasure, did our limits allow us, 
to dwell on the amiable points of character which 
most travellers agree in assigning to the Florentines : 
we mean their gentleness and courtesy to strangers, 
as well as their humane and charitable disposition to 
the sick and distressed among their people. We 
might also touch upon their neat and musical Italian 
dialect. But we must return (for the illustration of 
our print) to the city, its architecture, and its 
palaces, particularly the Palazzo Pitti, with its lofty 
and frowning tower. 

Florence is greatly improved since Bishop Burnet's 
time, when " not one window in ten had any glass 
in it." But it was then in a low condition, owing to 
the decay of trade. More attention is now paid, in 
this, as well as in otlier towns on the continent, 
to what we English people call comfort, than was 
formerly the case ; yet still, the streets are in general 
very narrow, paved with large flag-stones, which arc 
closely fitted to each other, with no line of difference 
between the foot way and the carriage-road, and re- 
mind an English traveller of broad alleys in London ; 

• The Pirn Palacj . bo railed after the name ol its founder. 

SO that, while, at Paris, e\ery body has to walk on 
the carriage-road, at Florence, all the carriages seem 
to be on the footpath. Here the carriages of the 
gentry are numerous, and often splendid, even rival- 
ling those in London : they are chiefly brought from 
Milan, a place noted for their manufacture. 

The vast and massive style in which the old man- 
sions of Florence are built, has been followed in more 
modern days, now that there is no longer that need 
of defence which existed, when feelings of hatred 
and jealousy burned between noble families, each 
trying to gain the pre-eminence at the expense of 
a great neighbour ; as if forgetting that one mam 
source of happiness is found in walking through this 
life as friends, and that the same common dust must 
soon cover them, and all their boasted pomp. 

Arnolfo di Lapo, who flourished in 1290, and died 
in 1330, was the builder of some of the larger 
structures now remaining. At a time when Florence 
was at the height of her prosperity, he seems to have 
led the way as an architect, and to have stamped 
upon the city that air of sullen grandeur which it 
has never lost, and which, at the first glance, fills the 
mind with wonder. Such heavy and gloomy fabrics 
are certainly calculated to give a melancholy aspect 
to the place ; but with so many objects of historical 
interest, and so many treasures of art on all sides, 
and, withal, a cheerful and pretty large population, 
Florence is seldom accused of being dull. It has the 
aspect of a city filled with nobles and their domestics; 
a city of bridges, churches, and palaces. Four 
bridges cross the Arno, of which the Ponte delta 
Trinith, formed of three elliptic arches of white marble, 
is one of the most graceful bridges in the world; an 
exception, in point of lightness and elegance, to the 
style prevailing around it. The famous Florentine 
Gallery is enriched with statues, busts, and paint- 
ings, of the highest order of art, many of them 
having been contributed by members of the splen- 
did family of Medici, with whom, indeed, this noble 
museum had its origin. The building forms three 
sides of an oblong square. To go into the details 
here, or even to attempt a general account of its 
contents, would be vain. The principal treasures of 
the collection, however, are the statues and busts. 

From this Gallery (which stands on the north bank 
of the Arno,) a bridge leads to the Palazzo Pitti, on 
the south side, where the Grand Duke, as an abso- 
lute sovereign, resides, and holds his court. This 
palace, now called Palazzo Diicale, and commonly by 
the English The Pitti Palace, is supposed to have 
been built by Luca Pitti, a Florentine merchant, 
with the ambitious and foolish design of out-doing 
in magnificence the Medici family, the objects of his 
rivalry ; but he nearly ruined himself by the ex- 
pense. It is a rude and simple pile, defective in its 
mas6nry, yet having, from its towering height and 
size, an imposing efR-ct, particularly fronting the 
street. In the space o])posite to it are seen statues, 
larger than life, including the Hercules by Bandi- 
nello, and the David by Michael Angelo. On going 
through the palace, tlie visiter finds that it forms 
three sides of a court, which has a fountain on the 
fourth ; behind this are the admired gro\'es of the 
BobolV gardens. John Ray, the naturalist, who 
travelled over the continent in search of jjlants, and 
among other places, visited Florence in IG(i4, says — 

I might spend many words in describing the Grand 
Duke's palace, and fjardens, stored with great variety of 
trees and shrubs, valuable for shade, beauty, fruit, and 
scent; adorned with a multitude of statues, thick set up 
and down the walks and knots ; pleasant fountains and 
water-works ; stately and delicious walks, both close and 
open ; goodly (lowers :ind choice ulants In Florence 




many of the palaces are made of great rough-hewn stones, 
not laid smooth, but projecting above the surface of the 
wall : which fashion of building is called The Rustic man- 

The garden-front of the palace has been much 
blamed for the strange mixture of its architecture; 
but, we repeat that bulk and strength were the chief 
aim in this and other fabrics, joined, however, with 
much that is noble and elegant. In such palaces, in 
former days, the rulers, the noble, and the merchant, 
dined together, surrounded by their family and the 
adherents of their party ; their guests were seated in 
the order in whieh they arrived. At the board of 
Lorenzo the Magnificent, whose court was adorned 
by the most distinguished men of the age, as well in 
literature and science, as in rank and wealth, Michael 
Angelo, and other great artists, were often seated 
next to himself ; and, notwithstanding the occasional" 
feuds whieh raged between certain great clans, there 
existed a kindly feeling among the various classes of 
society, which, although Florence has passed the 
days of her political and commercial importance, 
seems still to continue, and to claim the notice of 

The apartments of the Pitti Palace are exceedingly 
elegant, and contain the best collection of pictures in 
Florence, we may add, perhaps, in the world. Many 
of these were carried away by Napoleon Buonaparte, 
when Italy was overrun by the French armies under 
his command, but they are now all restored: they 
are himg in rich frames, on dark green and crim- 
son velvet grounds : the ceilings of the rooms are 
admirably painted in fresco. 

The architect of the palace was Brunelleschi, who 
flourished in 1420, and at that time became famous 
for erecting a large and extraordinary dome on the 
Cathedral of Florence. This dome, or cupola, was 
the admiration of Michael Angelo, who thought it a 
triumph of skill; and it is said by some to have 
furnished the idea of that of St. Peter's, at Rome. 
It has no columns to assist, no hidden buttresses to 
shore it up, and is nearly fifty feet higher than the 
dome of St. Paul's, London. Of all the churches of 
Florence, the Cathedral is the first in size and 

Almost every family of property in Florence pos- 
sesses, at some distance from the town, a vineyard, 
the surplus wine from which is disposed of in a very 
singular manner. In the walls of their large and 
noble mansions, are holes large enough to admit a 
three-quart bottle, and persons, of whatever degree, 
call at any hour, and, knocking at the porch, thrust 
in their vessels, with a certain sum of money, which 
are immediately returned, with a due quantity of wine. 
This trade is not confined to persons of moderate 
rank, but is a source of revenue even to counts and 


In 120, A.D.,the Romans, to protect then- possessions 
in this island from the incursions of the Picts and 
Scots, built a fortified wall across the narrowest and 
most northern part of their dominions. This wall 
ran in a direct line, nearly from sea to .sea, through 
the present counties of Cumberland and Northum- 
berland. The eastern extremity of this fortification 
terminated at Segedunum, to this day called Wall's- 
end, a station on the northern bank of the Tyne, 
about f(mr miles from the mouth of the river. The 
breadth of the river below this point, appears to 
have been considered by them as sufficient protection 
for the short remainder of the distance; but at the 
mouth, on one or both sides, they thought it neces- 

sary to erect some fortifications. Indistinct traces' 
but of considerable extent, have been found at 
South Shields, of Roman buildings; stones, with 
inscriptions upon them, occurring among the mo- 
nastic ruins of Tynemouth, present a less certain 
evidence of that people having also resided there. 

Whether Tynemouth was, or was not, of Roman 
foundation, it was at a very early date selected as an 
ecclesiastical site, for which the beauty and pecvdi- 
arity of its situation well adapted it. A wooden 
chapel was built there, in a.d. C25, by Edwin, King 
of Northumberland. No place, perhaps, in the 

; island, was more exi)osed to the devastations of 
the Danish pirates. From 62.1, to 1110, its his- 
tory is that of alternate destruction and renovation 
continually repeated. Long subsequent to the 

i Conquest, it was liable to Scottish incursions, and, 

j during the civil wars of the seventeenth century, it 
was frequently besieged. After that period, when 
all danger might be supposed to have passed away, 
its extensive and exquisitely-beautiful ruins, were 

; almost demolished for the sake of their materials. 

j Much of the priory of Tynemouth, it is pro- 
bable, was built with the hewn stone from the Ro- 
man station at the Law, South Shields; and great 
part of the town of North Shields, in return, is said, 

I to be built from the rviins of the monastery. D()ck- 
wray square in particular, is popularly spoken of, as 
having been constructed from this source. Nor was 
this all. Being used as a barrack and military store, 
the work of demolition and alteration has been 
gradually continued, down to a late period. The 
most conspicuous part of the ruin now standing, 
is the three very beautiful eastern windows of the 
chapel, represented in the engraving*. 

Tynemouth stands upon a promontory of lime- 
stone, rising perpendicularly from the sea to a very 
considerable height. At the eastern extremity of the 
cliff, are the ruins of the priory, which, from their 
great elevation, form a very conspicuous sea-mark: 
adjoining them, is an excellent light-house upon the 
revolving principle. About an hundred yards west 
of the monastic ruins, stands the castle, which is now 
transformed into a plain and unpicturesque building, 
and fitted up as barracks for the accommodation of 
a corps of infantry, which, with some artillery, are 
always stationed there. Beyond the castle, lies the 
village of Tynemouth, composed chiefly of lodging- 
houses for the reception of bathers, who flock thither 
during the summer-months, from all the surrounding 
neighbourhood, and particularly from Newcastle. 

The port of Newcastle is an object of some im- 
portance in the nautical history of this country. 
Until within the last few years, nearly all the coal 
consumed in London was shipped from it. New- 
castle on Tync, lies about ten miles from the mouth 
of the river, and upon the northern or Northumbrian 
bank. On the south side, in the county of Durham, 
but connected with Newcastle by a substantial bridge, 
is the newly-created borough of Gateshead, where the 
cholera raged with peculiar virulence, in December, 
1831, on its first appearance in this country. The 
banks of the river, on l)oth sides, are edged by 
collieries, by pit-rows or colliery-villages, and by 
staiths, or machines for shipping the coal, when 
brought from any distance. "Wallsend, mentioned be- 
fore, and Howdon on the north, with Jarrow, formerly 
the residence of the venerable Bede, Hebburn, and 
Felling, whence the well-known Newcastle grindstones 

• VVc are indebted to Mr. T. M. Richar.lsoii, of Newcastle, for 
the drawing from which this engravmR was made / "-^ "■^" =^| '"^ 
thos3 of VV^arkworth castle, a heady g,vcn): and '>»Pyh°"'y V" 
ftirnish views of other interesting objects in the North of England, 
frr-r -jrawings by the same able artist. ^ 

97— -*i 


[January 4, 


are shipped, on the south, are the principal villag s. 
At the mouth of the river, on the north side, running 
within half a mile of Tynemouth, on the south side 
extending to the very edge of the sea, lie the two 
towns of North and South Shields. 

The term Shields, or Sheats, is of frequent occur- 
rence in the north of England, in the names of 
places, and signifies, a small collection of huts or 
paltry buildings*. Both these towns are of consider- 
able antiquity, but have only flourished within about 
a century. South Shields was, as is mentioned 
above, a Roman station, and probably of no very 
trifling importance, as the road Wrecken Dyke ran 
from it. During the middle 2iges, it appears, how- 
ever, to have sunk into entire insignificance. From 
this it emerged, owing to the establishment of the 
salt-trade, towards the close of the fifteenth century. 
Salt wa-s long the staple commodity of the place, and 
Shields salt bears still a preference in the markets. 
The process by which it was obtained, was by evapo- 
ration from salt-water, exposed in shallow vessels 
termed Pans. Of these pans, not half a dozen arc 
now in use ; but at the close of the seventeenth 
century, one hundred and fifty were in full activity. 
The town is divided into wards, still called, from 
these manufactories. East-pan-ward, Wcst-pan-ward, 
&c. As the salt-trade declined, others rose, which 
more than compensated for the loss. Glass became 
a commodity, in the production of which South 
Shields particularly excelled. Bottle-glass, crown 
or window-glass t, and latterly, plate-glass, have been 
made in this town in great quantities. The prin- 
cipal support, however, of the place, has been, 
and is, its shipping, and those trades principally 
connected with shipping. The population of the 
town is about 18,000; the houses are generally 
mean, though there is a good market-place and 
some respectable streets leading from it. The riglit 
of returning one member to Parliament, was given 
to it by the bill of 1832. It is in the county and 
diocese of Durham. There is a large and commo- 

• The word Shielding is still applied in Scotland to such edifices, 
t See Saturday Magatiiie, Vol. III. p. 132. 

dious church, situated in the market-place; a chapel, 
containing 700 free sittings, was built in 1818, chiefly 
at the expense of the Dean and Chapter of Durham, 
who are lords of the manor, and who are now 
engaged in erecting another chapel. 

North Shields is a larger town, containing about 
20,000 inhabitai^ts. Not having, however, engaged 
in trade, it did not become a place of any conse- 
quence, previous to the time of Oliver Cromwell, 
who, by the removal of certain restrictions which 
had been imposed by the corporation of Newcastle, 
enabled it to engage successfully in navigation. Its 
external appearance is much the same as that of 
South Shields. Like that place, its population is 
chiefly dependent upon the sea, and upon the various 
trades which are supported by the shipping. The 
vessels in which the fuel of the metropolis was 
conveyed, belonged almost entirely, until within the 
last few years, to the port of Newcastle ; that is, to 
the towns on the Tyne. Besides collier-brigs, there 
is also a considerable trade to the Baltic and the 
Canadas for timber, and several vessels are annually 
fitted out for the Greenland fishery. During the late 
war, the ship-owners of this port carried on a very 
lucrative connexion with government, by hiring out 
their vessels for the conveyance of troops or stores : 
this was called the transport-service. 

The total present tonnage of the port is 211,143 
tons, employing 8444 men; of these, 69,744 tons 
belong to North Shields, affording, at the average of 
four men to the hundred tons, employment to 2789 
seamen : South Shields, in like manner, furnishes 
67,980 tons, and 2719 men. 

The sailors from the Tyne will be famous so 
long as European history is read, as having formed 
the principal equipment of those fleets, which, 
under Nelson, St. Vincent, CoUingwood, and others, 
raised the British flag to its proudest elevation. A 
wreck which took place off the mouth of this river 
some years ago, was the cause of the invention 
of the life-boat, a contrivance by which numerous 
lives are now saved every year on all parts of 
the British coast; and with a more detailed account 



of which we hope soon to present our readers. 
North Shields has been, since the recent Act, repre- 
sented by one member. It contains one church, the 
[iresentation to which is alternately in the gift of 
the Duke of Northumberland and oi' Sir Jacob 
Asitley, who possesses the property of the ancient 
family of Delaval, of Seaton Delaval. 

J.vMEs Fergusox, who distinguished himself as a 
mathematician, mechanic, and astronomer, gives the follow- 
ing interesting account of his early life : I was born in 
tlie year 1710, a few miles from Keith, a little village in 
Bamffshire, in the north of Scotland ; and can with plea- 
sure say, that my parents, though poor, were religious and 
honest ; lived in good repute with all who knew them, and 
died with good characters. Though my father had nothing 
to support a large family but his daily labour, and the profits 
of a few acres of land which he rented, yet his children were 
not neglected, for at his leisure hours, he taught them to 
read and write : and it was while he was teaching my 
elder brother to ros.d the Catechism, that I acffuired 
ray reading. Ashamed to ask my father to instruct me, 
I used, when alone, to study the lesson which he had been 
teaching my brother ; and in any difficulty, I went to a 
neighbouring old woman, who gave me such help as 
enabled me to agreeably surprise my father, when he 
found me one day reading by myself, before ho had 
thought of teaching me : he, therefore, gave me further 
instruction, and taught me to write ; which, with about 
three months I afterwards had at the grammar-school at 
Keith, was all the education I ever received. 

My taste for mechanics arose from an odd accident. 
When about seven or eight years of age, a part of the roof 
of the house being decayed, my father, in repairing it, ap- 
plied a prop and lever to an upright spar, to raise it to its 
former situation ; and to my great astonishment, I saw him, 
v/ithout considering the reason, lift up the ponderous roof, 
as if it had been a small weight. I attributed this at first 
to a degree of strength that excited my terror as well as 
wonder : but, thinking further of the matter, I recollected 
that he had applied his strength to that end of the lever 
which was farthest from the prop ; and finding, on inquiry, 
that this was the cause of the seeming wonder, I began 
making levers, (which I then called bars,) and tried dif- 
ferent experiments with them, and with wheels, which I 
made with ray fathers turning-lathe and a little knife. 

But, as ray father could not aflford to maintain me, 
while I was in pursuit only of these matters, and 1 was too 
young and weak for hard labour, he put me to a neighbour 
to keep sheep, and then I began to observe the stars by 
night, fixing their places on a string with small beads on 
it, and then marking them down on paper. I then went 
to serve a considerable fanner, whose name was James 
Glashan ; when he saw me, after my work was done, go 
into a field, with a blanket about me, and lie on my back 
to observe the stars, he at first laughed at me, but, when I 
explained my meaning to him, he encouraged me to go on, 
ajid that I might make fair copies in the day-time of what 
I had done in the night, he often worked lor me himself, 
taking the threshing-Hail out of my hand, while I sat by 
him in the barn, busy with my compasses and pen. I shall 
always have a respect for the memory of that man. 

At this time, a gentleman, Thomas Grant, Esq., of 
Achoynancy, happening to see one of my plans, asked me to 
go to his house, as his butler could give me a great deal of 
instruction. I would not leave my good master till ray time 
was out ; but I then went to Squire Grant's, where the 
butler, Alexander Cantley, soon became my friend, and 
continued so till his death. He was an extraordinary 
man, — a complete master of arithmetic, a good mathemati- 
cian, a master of music, understood Latin, French, and 
Greek, and could even prescribe as a physician upon an 
urgent occasion. 

When 1 returned home, I could not think of being a 
burden to my father, so I went to a miller, thinking I 
should have plenty of time for ray studies ; but my master 
was so fond of the ale-house, that the whole care of the mill 
waa left to me, and I was so nearly starved, that I was 
glad when I could get a little oatmeal mixed with water 
U) eat. When my year's engagement with this man was 
over, I went to a farmer, who practised as a physician, and 
who promised to teach me that part of his business, but 

instead of that, he never once showed me his books, hut 
kept me to such hard labour, that I was disabled, from 
being overworked; and when my illness obliged me to leave 
him, he would pay me nothing for my three months' labour 
because I had not completed my half year's service. In 
my weak state, I made a wooden watch and clock, and 
other things, which I took, when I was recovered, to Sir 
James Dunbar, of Duru, who, I heard, was a good-natured 
gentleman ; he received me very kindly, and by means of 
this introduction, I was afterwards enabled to go to Edin- 
burgh, and pursue my favourite studies, and also had the 
pleasure of occasionally supplying the wants of my poor 

James Ferguson, whose own account of his early life is 
here given, became a Member of the Royal Society of 
London, a celebrated lecturer on Astronomy and Natural 
Philosophy, and the author of several scientific works. 
Among the attendants on his lectures was the then Prince 
of Wales, afterwards George the Third, who settled upon 
Ferguson a pension of fifty pounds a year. He was a 
man of plain and unassuming manners, and frugal habits, 
and at his death, in 1776, was worth six thousand pounds. 


The celebrated Elegy in a Country Church-Yuid, by GnAY, is well 
known, and justly admired, by every one who has the lest preten- 
sions to taste. 15ut with all its polish, and deep poetic beauty and 
feeling, it always appeared to me to be defective, and I have met 
with a remark in Cecil's I'.einiiins, to the same effect. Amid a scene 
so well calculated to awaken in a pious mind reflections on the 
sublime truths, and inspiring hopes of Christianity, Gray, with the 
exception of two or three somewhat equivocal expressions, says 
scarcely a word which might not have been said by one who believed 
that " death was an eternal sleep," and who was disposed to regard 
the humble tenants of those tombs as indeed " each in his narrow 
cell /oi-ei>er laid." With these views I have regretted, that senti- 
ments similar to the following had not sprung up in the heart, and 
received the exquisite touches of ihe classic pen of Gray. They 
might, with great propriety, have followed the stanza, beginning 
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife. 

No airy dreams their simple fancies fired. 

No thirst for wealth, nor panting after fame • 
But truth divine sublime r hopes inspired. 

And urged them onward to a nobler aim. 
From every cottage, with the day arose 

The hallowed voice of spirit-breathing prayer ; 
And artless anthems, at its peacetul close, 

Like holy incense, charmed the evening air. 
Though they, each tome of human lore unknown. 

The brilliant path of science never trod, 
The Sacred Volume claimed their hearts alone. 

Which taught the way to glory and to God. 

Here they from truth's eternal fountain drew, 
The pure and gladdening waters day by day ; 

Learnt, since our days are evil, fleet, and few. 
To walk in wisdom's bright and peaceful way. 

In yon lone pile, o'er which hath sternly pass'd 

The heavy hand of all-destroying Time, 
Through whose low-mouldering aisles now sighs the blast, 

And round whose altars grass and ivy climb : 

They gladly thronged, their grateful hymns to raise. 

Oft as the calm and holy Sabbath shone ; 
The mingled tribute of their prayers and praise. 

In sweet communion rose before the Throne. 

Here, from those honoured lips, which sacred fire 
From Heaven's high chancery hath touched, they hear 

Truths which their zeal inflame, their hopes inspire, 
Give wings to faith, and check afHiction's tear. 

When life flowed by, and, like an angel, Death 
Came to release them to the world on high. 

Praise trembled still on each expiring breath. 
And holy triumph beamed trom every eye. 

Then gentle hands their " dust to dust" consign ; 

With quiet tears, the simple rites are said. 
And here they sleep, till at the trump divine. 

The earth and ocean render up their dead. 

[Fro.m an American Writer.] 

So completely is the ground impregnated with seeds, that 
if earth is brought to the surface from the lowest depth at 
which it is found, some vegetable matter will spring from 
it. In boring for water lately, at a spot near Kin^ston-on 
Thames, some earth was brought up from a deptu of 360 
i''eet ; this earth was carefully covered over with a hand- 
glass, to prevent the possibility of other seeds being 
deposited upon it, yet, in a short time, plants vegetated 
from it. Jesse. 


[January -4 

No. VII. The Trade Winds. 
In our owti climate, the uncertainty of tlie wind has 
almost become a proverb. But we can yet see, that 
there are some general rules by which the currents 
of the air seem to be governed. Taking the average 
of the whole year, the wind blows much more fre- 
quently from the westerly quarter of the heavens 
than from the east ; but there are several weeks in 
the spring, and in the early part of the summer, when 
easterly winds prevail. These eflfects are far too con- 
stant to arise without some fixed cause ; and it is to 
be regretted, that we do not yet know enough of the 
course and force of the winds, to discover what ail 
those causes are. 

But, in other parts of the world, especially between 
the tropics, the winds blow with much greater regu- 
larit}-. Their direction can be calculated upon with 
such a degree of certainty, as to render them of the 
utmost importance to navigation ; hence these stated 
currents of the air are called the Trade Winds. 

The general phenomena are of this nature. Between 
the tropics, the tendency of the wind is from the 
eastward towards the west. To the north of the 
Equator, the wind blows from about N.E. to S.W. : 
and, to the south of the Equator, it blows from about 
S.E. to N.W. From some little distance, on either 
side of the Equator itself, there is no regular wind. 
There are usually baffling calms, accompanied with 
occasional violent storms. 

The cause of the Trade Winds is very simple. 
They arise from the currents of cold air setting from 
the Poles towards the Equator, combined with the 
motion of the earth itself upon its axis. It is easy 
to see, that the action of the heat of the sun has a 
constant tendency to cause currents in the air. When 
air is heated, it becomes lighter than it was before ; 
and any one may satisfy himself, that a current will 
be produced, when hotter and colder air communi- 
cate with each other, by holding a candle at the 
bottom and at the top of an open door, which com- 
municates between a warm room and a cold passage; 
he will see that the warm air is running out at the 
top, while the cold air is running in at the bottom. 

Supposing, then, the whole earth to be at rest, and 
to be heated in the regions about the Equator much 
more than about the Poles, the air, at the earth's 
surface at the equator, being heated, would rise, and 
flow at the top of the atmosphere from the equator 
towards each pole, while the colder air of the poles 
would flow, at the bottom of the atmosphere, from 
the poles towards the equator, and thus a constant 
change of air would take j)lace. On the surface of 
the earth there would be a constant northerly wind 
in the parts to the north of the equator, and a con- 
stant southerly wind in the parts to the south of the 
equator ; but, near the equator itself, there woidd be 
a calm, the currents from North and South balancing 
each other, and the air there ascending continually 
from the surface to the higher parts of the atmo- 
sphere. Local causes will prevert,. the currents from 
the North and South Poles from neutralizing each 
other exactly on the equator. In the Atlantic Ocean, 
the region of calms and bafiling winds thus occa- 
sioned, is always to the north of the equator, and its 
position varies at diflerent periods of the year. 

Such currents are continually taking place ; but 
the direction of these currents, as observed at the 
surface of the earth, will be very materially altered 
in consequence of the motion of the earth itself. 
The earth turns round its axis once in twenty-four 
hours, in a direction from West to East ; and, since 

the circumference of the earth at the equator is about 
24,000 miles*, a place on the equator is carried round 
at the rate of about 1000 miles an hour; but any place 
north or south of the equator, does not move so fast, 
for it will plainly move through a less circle in the 
same time. Thus, a place very near the Poles 
scarcely moves at all ; a place in the latitude of 60", 
as at the Shetland Isles, moves only half as fast as at 
the equator, or at the rate of 500 miles an hour ; a 
place in the latitude of 30°, as at Cairo, in Egypt, 
moves at the rate of 866 miles an hour ; and as we 
advance towards the equator, the motion of the parts 
of the earth's surface continually increases, as is 
shown in the table below, which is given by Capt. Hall. 

-^ f Miles an Hour Diffi'rcucf of 

Degrees ot ^^. ^^^^ Karth's daily Diumnl Motion in 

*' • Motion on her Axis. Miles an Hour. 

90° (Pole) ... .... — 

80 174 .... 174 

70 342 .... 168 

60 500 .... 158 

50 643 .... 143 

40 766 .... 123 

30 866 .... 100 

20 949 ... . 74 

10 985 .... 45 

(The Equator) ..1000 ... 15 

If a current of air is passing from the Poles 
to the Equator over the surface of the earth, it is 
carried continually from parts which are moving 
from West to East, with less rapidity, into those 
which are moving with a greater rapidity. With 
reference, then, to the surface of the earth, the 
current which is passing from the Northern regions 
towards the Equator, will be affected with tioo 
motions, one from North to South, arisihg from 
the actual motion of the air, the other from East to 
West, arising from the greater motion of the surface 
of the earth itself from West to East. The conse- 
quence of those two motions will be the production 
of an oblique motion, in a direction between the two : 
or there will be perceived a wind blowing from about 
the N.E. quarter. In like manner, the southerly 
current of air flowing from the South Pole towards 
the Equator will be rfianged, as it advances, into 
a current whicti comes fi-om the South-easterly 
quarter, relatively to the surface of the earth. 

As these currents advance, it is plain that the 
constant friction of the air, upon the surface of the 
earth, tends to give the air the same motion which 
the earth has, and that, in proportion as that effect 
is produced, the rapidity of the relative easterly 
current slackens. The air gradually acquires the 
motion of the part of the earth with which it is in 
contact, moves on with it, and becomes relatively at 
rest. The above table, given by Captain Hall, 
will also show that the difference in the rapidity of 
motion of two points at a given distance from one 
another measured along any meridian, decreases ra- 
pidly near the Equator, so that, as the air approaches 
the Equator, the friction of the surface has a longer 
time to act upon the current of air, coming from the 
Poles, and is more effective. 

Hence we might expect, as it is found, that the 
apparent easterly Trade Wind would become weaker 
near the Equator itself: and, as we have already 
seen, the two northerly and southerly currents also, 
in a great measure, counterbalance each other at the 
Equator. The great regular causes of a Trade Wind 
being thus checked, there will be, near the Equator, 
a belt of calms, or baffling and uncertain winds, while 
to the North and South there will be a more settled 
current tending upon the whole from East to West. 

In the upper regions of the atmosphere, effects of 
• Accurately, 24,899 miles 



u. directly opposite nature may be expected. The 
warm air of the Equator will be carried above 
towards the North and South Poles, and these 
currents, moving from parts which have a greater 
diurnal motion, to those which have less, will cause 
a relative motion of the upper regions of the air 
from the West towards the East. Thus, the clouds 
above the Trade Winds are almost always observed 
to blow in an opposite direction to that of the wind : 
and Captain Hall found, on the top of the Peak of 
Teneriffe, a gentle gale blowing from the S.W. 
directly opposite to the course of the Trade Winds. 
The westerly winds, which prevail between the 
latitudes 30° and 60°, both in the northern and 
southern hemispheres, are no doubt occasioned by 
tlie descent of the more swiftly moving air, which 
has become cooled, and therefore heavier, in its 
passage from the Equator towards the Poles. 

Those who are desirous of seeing the whole phe- 
nomena of the Trade Winds and Monsoons beau- 
tifully and familiarly explained, should consult Captain 
Basil Hall's Fragments of Voyages and Travels, Second 
Series, Vol. I., ch. vii. C. 


We stated in a former paper*, that the Society for 
the Prevention of Juvenile Vagrancy had sent out a 
number of youthful Emigrants for apprenticeship to 
the Cape Colonists. This first experiment answered 
so well in every respect, that the plan was further 
pursued, and we understand that nearly 300 children 
have been provided with comfortable situations in 
that part of the world, during the present year, 
through the exertions of that valuable Society. The 
following extracts from Cape and Graham's Town 
newspapers, communicate the results of this inter- 
esting experiment. 


The Committee for the Management of Juvenile Emi- 
grants, intend to write to the Society in London by the 
first opportunity, for a certain number of Apprentices, boys 
and girls, the latter under fourteen years of age. It is re- 
quested, that applicants for one or more of these appren- 
tices will state in writing to the Committee, the age at 
which they would prefer having them, and the employment 
for which they are required. The Committee take this 
opportunity of stating, for the satisfaction of the public 
here, and in England, that the youths hitherto received 
and apprenticed, have conducted themselves with the 
greatest propriety, and have given every proof that could 
be desired, that they will become most valuable members 
of societyi-. John Fa.irbair.vh, J. R. Tunes, 

Cape Town, Sept. 2, 1833. Secretaries. 

Wg announced last week the an-ival in Algoa Bay of the 
Maria, Captain Burton, having on board the twenty boy» 
destined for this district by the Society for the Suppression 
of Juvenile Vagrancy in London. On Saturday at noon, 
the boys reached Graham's Town, and were, within one 
hour after their arrival, comfortably provided for in the 
habitations of the respective masters selected for them. 
The general appearance of these youths afforde<l much 
satisfaction to the Emigrant Committee, as well as to others 
whom curiosity had attracted to the spot as spectators of 
their arrival. All of them appeared remarkably healthy 
and cheerful, and most readily assented to the arrange- 
ments for their disposal, which had been made by the 
Committee previous to their arrival. From the number of 
unexceptionable applications which had been made, no 
other equitable mode presented itself, than that of selecting 
twenty masters by ballot, making, however, eventually, 
some few alterations, which the previous habits and pur- 
suits of the boys rendered absolutely necessary. The un- 
sutjcessful applicants will have the preference on the next 
arrival, which we have reason to expect will not be very 

• Vol. III. p. 1.55. 
• Smith .African AUvertuer, Sept. 4 1833 

distant, and, we may venture to say, that if on this occasion 
five times the number had been sent, there would have 
been no difficulty in providin}; for them all. 

By the communication from Captain Brenton to the 
Committee appointed at Algoa Bay by the London Society 
and from them to the Emigrant Committee of Albany,— 
extracts from which we annex, — it appears that the total 
cost of passage and outfit of each of these boys, including 
every item, will probably amount to 12/. 10s' each, which 
the Society at home look to have eventually refunded from 

We need not urge, we are assured, upon the respective 
masters of these friendless boys, the sacred obligation 
under which they are laid, to treat them with due kindness 
and regard, and to pay Such attention to their morals, as 
will render them an actual benefit to the community of 
which they now form a part. It is clear, that they have a 
more than ordinary claim to the sympathy of those who 
-have so adventitiously become their guardians; and the 
simple fact of their forlorn condition, adds very greatly to 
the weight of the obligation. But, it is useless to dwell on 
this part of the subject, confident as we are, that every 
circumstance in the future history of these young emi- 
grants, will be a full and sufficient refutation of the un- 
founded calumny mentioned by Captain Brenton, and will 
prove, that tliose who give currency to such allegations 
are utterly unacquainted with the subject upon which they 
suffer themselves, so confidently, yet so rashly, to pro- 
nounce judgment. 

The Committee have also accepted a trust of no ordinarv 
difficulty, and which will require in its discharge great 
judgment and delicacy. It must never be lost sight of, 
that they stand in the situation of the parents of these 
boys, and hence they are equally bound to exercise due 
precaution, that no one is so placed as to be exposed 
to the contamination of vice, as they are to guard against 
his being subjected to the effects of privation and ill- 
treatment. It is proper, also, that the dispositions of 
the youths should be consulted before they are placed 
in service, in order that they may bo extensively ser- 
viceable both to themselves and to their masters. This 
point, as well as an acquaintance with the previous habits 
of each individual, will be very important, and serve as the 
best guide to the selection of the most suitable situations 
for them. We have a perfect confidence in the discretion 
as well as humanity of the present Committee; they are 
not only men of business, but they have families, and their 
characters and habits give the best assurance that every 
arrangement will be made, conducive to the future welfare 
of the boys, as well as to that of the community at large. 
The youths have most of them been to school, and are by 
no means destitute of intelligence ; it therefore will not be 
irrelevant, if we state what is the line of conduct expected 
from them. 

It is proper that these boys should understand that they 
have now the good fortune, not only to be placed in com- 
fortable circumstances, with regard to all the necessaries of 
life, but that they are associated with a community of 
young persons, who are, generally speaking, distinguished 
tor their exemplary deportment, and that a contrary line o 
conduct on their parts will, most assuredly, meet with 
merited disgrace and punishment. At present, their cha- 
racters are viewed as equivocal, and it is incumbent on 
them so to behave, that this feeling may be removed. 
They are bound so to act, that if there be any persons who 
have permitted themselves to indulge in uncharitable re- 
flections and surmises, they may feel some remorse— not 
merely for refusing to aid, but aspersing those whose sole 
offence, as far as they are informed, is their forlorn and 
destitute condition ; it will be for them to show, that they 
are not insensible to kindness conferred — a fact which will 
be best indicated by a constant anxiety to discharge, with 
diligence and integrity, the duties assigned to them, by 
steadily availing themselves of the various means of im- 
provement now placed within their reach, and by carefully 
shunning all those pursuits which foster idleness, debase the 
mind, and eventually lead to irretrievable ruin | . 

Graham's Town is now a thriving place, it contains 
more than six hundred good substantial houses, two 
public libraries, a handsome commercial hall in 
progress, a newspaper, several excellent inns, a popu- 
lation of between two and three thousand souls, and 
its annual exports exceed 50,000/. sterling. 

{ Gruliam's Town Journal, July 18, 1833. 


[January 4, 1834. 

I. Sunday. 
At this hapjjy period of the world, we cannot reflect 
on the idolatry of ancient times, without some as- 
tonishment at the folly which has, in various regions, 
so sadly clouded the human mind. We feel, indeed, 
that it is impossible to contemplate the heavens above 
US; to view the planets moving in their governed 
order ; to find comets darting from system to system 
In an orbit of wonderful extent; to see stars beyond 
stars, and to haie evidence of the light of other.-^ 
whose full beams have not yet reached us : w i 
eannot meditate on tliese things, without a feeling <>t 
awe, that this grandeur of nature proclaims an 
Author tremendously great. But it is diHicult ti. 
conceive, how the lessons of the skies should ha\ ; 
taught that narrow and confined idolatry, which their 
amazing grandeur and almost endless extent seem 
calculated to forbid. 

In every nation but the Jewish, a gross system of 
superstition was gradually established. Human folly 
chose out strange objects to represent the Deity; 
the most ancient of these were the heavenly bodies, 
the worship of which was so strictly forbidden to tiic 
IsraeLtes ; " The sun, and the moon, and the stars, 
even all the host of heaven, which the Lord thy 
God hath divided unto all nations under the whole 
heaven." (Deut. iv. 19.) The departed heroes and 
kings, belonging to heathen nations, were raised into 
gods. Foolish fancy soon added so many others, 
that the air, the sea, the rivers, the woods, and the 
earth, became stocked with divinities : and it was 
easier, as an ancient sage remarked, to find a deity 
than a man. 

When our Saxon ancestors had settled themselves 
in England, they had many gods, and worshipped 
various images. Speed, the historian of Britain, ob- 
serves, " As in virtues the, Saxons outstripped most 
Pagans, so ia the zeal of their heathenish superstition 
and idolatroas service, they equalled any of them ; 
for besides Herthus, or mother Earth, they worshipped 
Mercury (or more probably Mars), under the name 
of Woden, as their principal god of battle, and 
sacrificed to him their prisoners taken in war; and 
of him named one of the week-days Wodensday 
^Wednesday'). His wife, named Frea, was, by the 
like foolery held to be Venus, a goddess, unto whom 
another of theij week-days was assigned for name 
and service, which of us is called FiiinAY." 

There is, however, a beauty in the name given by 
the Saxon and German nations to the Deity, whom 
they ignorantly worshipjicd, which is not equalled 
by any other, except his hallowed Hebrew name, 
Jehovah, llie Saxons call him God, which is 
literally Thi: Good; the same word signifying both 
the Deity and his most endearing quality. 

Mr. Sharon Turner, to whose History of the Anglo- 
Saxnns we are indebted for most of the above remarks, 
observes, that the peculiar system vi worship among 
the English Saxons is too little known to us for its 
stages to be distmguished, or its progress described. 
It appears to have been of a very mixed nature, 
and to have been long in existence. Some of the 
objects of tlieir adoration, however, we find in tLrir 
names for the days of the week : — 

Sunday Thk Sun's day 

Monday Thk Moon"s day. 

Tuesday Tiw's (or Tui SCO's) day. 

Wednesday .... W<n>i.N » day. 

Thursday .... Tluuiie's (or Thor's) day. 

Friilay Fri(;a s (or Frka's) day. 

Saturday .... Sotiniie's (or Saturn's) day. 

We propose to give, from time to time, cuts of thes« 

seven Saxon idols : commencing with that of the Sun 
we quote the following description from Richard Verste- 
gan, a laborious English antiquary, who wrote in 1 605. 

Tnr inOL OF THE "iUN. 

" He was made as here appeareth, set upon a pdlar, his 
face as it were brightened with ^;leams o^'fire, and holdinfr, 
with both his arms stretched out, a burning wheel upon his 
breast : the wheel being to signify the course whicli he 
runneth round about the world ; and the fiery gleams and 
brightness, the lifrht and heat wherewith he warmeth and 
comforteth the things that live and grow." 

Character of a True Friend. — Concerning the man 
you call your friend — tell me, will he weep with you in the 
hour of distress ? Will he faithfully reprove j o\i to your 
face, for actions for which others are ridiculing or ccnsiu-ing 
you behind your back? Will he dare to stand forth in 
your defence, wlien detraction is secretly aiming its deadly 
weapons at your reputation ? Will he acknowledge you 
with the same cordiality, and behave to you with the same 
friendly attention, in the company of your superiors in 
rank and fortune, as when the claims of pjide or vanity do 
not interfere with those of ft-iendship? If misfortune and 
losses should oblige you to retire into a walk of life, in 
which you cannot appear with the same distinction, or 
entertain your friends with the same liberality as formerly, 
will he still think himself happy in yovu- society, and, 
instead of gradually withdrawing himseif from an unpro- 
fitable connexion, take pleasure in professing himself your 
friend, and cheerfully assist yoti to support the burden of 
your ailiictions ? When sickness shall call you to retire 
from the gay and busy scenes of the world, will he follow 
you into your gloomy retreat, listen with attention to your 
" tale of symptoms, " and minister tho balm of consolation 
to your fainting spirit? And lastly, when death shall 
Durst asunder every earthly tie, will he shed a tear upon 
yoi.r frra\e, an<l lod-je the dear remembrance of your 
mutual friendship in his heart, as a treasure never to be 
resigned ? The man who will not do all this, may be your 
companion— your flatterer— your seducer, — but, depend 
upon it, he is not your friend. Enfield. 



Sold by all BooVieUers and Nw«»vi*m{prs in i.hc KjujO-irv 






IF" 1834. 

< Prick 
i One Penny. 


Vol IV. 




[January 11, 



This celebrated manufacturing town is situated in the 
County of Warwick, 109 miles from London, and con- 
tains about 147,000 inhabitants. The earliest authentic 
notice of it occurs in Domesday Book, in which it is called 
Bermen(/eham,vihence may be easily deduced Rromwycham, 
which name, together with those of Castle-Bromwich and 
West Bromwich, two adjacent villages, is supposed to be 
derived from the quantity of broom growing in the neigh- 
bourhood. Some antiquaries suppose it to have been the 
Bremenium of the Romans ; but others believe that it was 
a British town prior to the Roman invasion, and famous 
for the manufacture of arms. Its history, prior to the 
Conquest, is involved in obscurity ; and from that period, 
till the reign of Charles the First, few incidents of moment 
are recorded. In the civil war during that reign, the 
inhabitants embraced the cause of the Parliament ; and, 
in 1642, after the King had passed through the town, on 
his route to Shrewsbury, they seized the carriages con- 
taining the royal plate and ftirniture, and convoyed them to 
Warwick Castle. In 1 643, Prince Rupert, on his way to 
open a communication between Oxford and York, here met 
with considerable resistance, which so provoked him, that 
he set fire to the town, and, after several houses had been 
burnt, the inhabitants saved themselves from further 
suffering by the payment of a heavy fine. 

On the 14th of' July, 1791, a party having met at an 
hotel to celebrate the anniversary of the Fx-ench Revolution, 
a mob collected in front of the house and broke the windows; 
they thence proceeded to burn down two meeting-houses, 
and destroyed Dr. Priestley's dwelling-house, about a mile 
from the town, together with his library, philosophical 
apparatus and manuscripts. The riot continued several 
days, during which other meeting-houses and private 
mansions were set on fire ; but, on the arnval of the military 
from Oxford and Houuslow, order was restored : at the ensu- 
ing assizes four of the ring-leaders were convicted, and 
two of them suffered the penalty of the law. Shortly after 
this occurrence, barracks were erected near the town, on the 

The extraordinary mcrease of Birmingham, the _ im- 
provement of its manufactures, the extension of its trade, 
and the rapid growth of its commerce, within the last 
century, may be attributed chictly to the mines of iron-ore 
and coal with which the district abounds, and to the 
numerous canals by which it is connected with every part 
of tlie kingdom. Birmingham, in the reign of Henry the 
Eighth, was inhabited principally, as described by Leland, 
" by smithes that use to make knives, and all manner of 
cutting tooles, and lorimers that make bittes, and a great 
many nailours." Soon after the Revolution, in 1G88, the 
manufacture of fire-arms was introduced, and continued to 
flourish till the close of the late war, during which the 
Government contracts for muskets alone, generally averaged 
30,000 per month; the manufacture of swords and army- 
accoutrements is still carried on to a considerable e.Ktent, 
and, since the erection of a proof-house, by an Act of 
Parliament obtained in 1813, that of fowling-pieces has 
greatly increased. The manufacture of buttons has always 
been a source of wealth to many, and of employment to 
thousands ; but the buckle-trade, established soon after the 
Revolution, became nearly extinct in 1812. Tlie leather- 
trade has also much declined, and at present there is only 
one tan-yard in the town. The principal branches of manu- 
facture are those of light and heavy steel goods, (here 
called toys,) gold, silver, and plated wares, trinkets, jewel- 
lery, fancy articles of every kind in the gilt toy-trade, 
machinery, an 1 steam-engines. Tliere are many iron and 
brass founderies, several roUing-mills of great power, and 
metallic hot-house manufactories, in one of which a hot- 
house was recently made for the Duke of Northumberland, 
at an expense of nearly 50,000/. Casting, modeUing, die- 
sinking, and engraving, have been brought to great per- 
fection, and there are several glass-houses, and mills for 
cutting glass. 

The most ancient and extensive manufactory is the Soho, 
about a mile from the town, where, under the superin- 
tendence of Messrs. Boulton and Watt, the Birmingham 
manufactures were brought to their present state of per- 
fection. In this factory were coined many of the penny- 
pieces still in circulation; and li-re, also, gas was first 
used as a substitute for oil and tallow, under the auspices 

of Mr. Murdoch, who, after a course of experiments at 
Redruth, in Cornwall, lighted the shops of this factory, 
and, in 1802, displayed the success of his researches in a 
public illumination of the Soho, to celebrate the peace 
with France. Thomason's manufactory, in Church-street, 
has a splendid suite of show-rooms, containing fine si)eci- 
mens of gold, silver, and plated ware, medals, bronzes, Sec. 
There are also show-rooms in Birmingham of improved 
japan and papier machS ware, a pin-manufactory, and a 
general repository, called Pantechnetheca, for the sale of 
articles from the various manufactories. 

Birmingham is pleasantly situated on an eminence, at 
the north-west extremity of the county, and is about two 
miles in length. The streets are generally spacious, well 
paved, and lighted with gas. The houses are mostly 
modern, and some of them are very handsome. In enter- 
ing Birmingham from London, the road, by a stone brilge 
OTer the small River Rea, leads up an ascent into the market- 
place, in the centre of which is a statue, in bronze, of 
Lord Nelson, finely executed by Westmacott. The market- 
place has lately been very much enlarged, and a handsome 
market-house erected. 

The New Town-Hall, which is nearly flnishea, and is 
intended to be used for public meetings and for the musical 
festivals, is situated at the end of New-street. It is a 
noble edifice in the Grecian style, erected from the designs 
of Mr. Harris, and built of marble obtained from the rocks 
on the coast of Anglesey. The total height of the building 
is 84 feet ; the basement is rustic, and above it is a hand- 
some colonnade, with entablature and pediment. The prin- 
cipal room is said to contain a larger quantity of cubic feet 
than any other in Europe, and will accommodate between 
three and four thousand persons sitting, or ten thousand 
standing. It is 140 feet long, 65 high, and 65 broad. The 
whole will be completed for less than 20,000/., and the build- 
ing is intended to be opened at the Musical Festival in 
October next. (See Engraving, p. 16.) 

The New Market-Hall, erected from designs by Mr. 
C. Edge, is a noble structure, the first stone of which was 
laid in February, 1 833. It is built of enormous blocks of 
stone, many of them weighing nine tons each, and is in 
the Grecian Doric style of architecture. The principal 
front is in High-street, but there are altogether twelve 
spacious entrances. The length of the building is 363 
feet, and the breadth 108 feet. It occupies an area of 
4379 square yards, and is expected to be completed in June 
of the present year. 

The Cattle-Market and Horse-Fair are held at Smith- 
field, outside the town, on Thursday, and, on the same day, 
a sale of horses by auction takes place at Beardsworth's 
Repository, an immense establishment near the spot, which 
comprises accommodation for nearly 200 horses, standings 
for 400 carriages, and rooms for visiters. 

The town is under the jurisdiction of the county magis- 
trates and a high bailiff, who presides at all public meetings. 

Birmingham possesses a News Room, erected in 1825, 
Two Public Libraries, a Philosophical Society, a School of 
Medicine, established in 1 828, a Society of Arts, instituted 
in 1821, which has an annual exhibition of pictures, a 
Mechanics' Institute, established in 1825, a Theatre, and 

Prior to 1715, Birmingham was comprised in one parisli, 
and for all secular purposes it is still so considered ; at that 
time, a small portion of the original parish of St. Martin 
was formed into the parish of St. Philip; and, in 1829, 
two other districts were formed into the parislies of St. 
George and St. Thomas. St. Martin's is an ancient struc- 
ture, in the decorated style of English architecture, con- 
taining some curious monuments. St. Philip's, erected in 
1725, is in the Grecian style, and occupies the centre of a 
spacious area, surrounded by handsome modern b'jildings. 
St. George's was built in 1822, in the decorated 
style, and contains 1378 free-sittings. St. Thomas's is also 
a modern churt^h, having been completed in 1829 ; it is in 
the Grecian style. In addition to these there are St. Mary's 
Chapel, built in 1774; St. Paul's Chapel, in 1779, to 
which an elegant steeple was added in 1820; Christ 
Church, erected in 1813, for the especial accommodation 
of the poor; St. Bartholomew's; and St. Peter's, built in 
1827. There are also places of worship for various classes 
of Dissenters. 

Tlie Free Grammar-School was founded by Edward the 
Sixth, an . endowed with the revenue of the guild of the 
Holy Cross, which, prior to the dissolution, occupied this 
spot. The endowment, arising from land, pt that time 




amounted to only 30/. per annum; at present, the ground 
having been let on building leases, it produces from 8000/. 
to 10,000/. There are seven exhibitions, of 70/. per annum 
each, to either of the Universities ; and the number of 
scholars on the foundation is 150. The building has 
recently been taken down, and is about to be re-erected in 
the Gothic style, on a magnificent scale. The Blue-Coat 
Charity, established in 1724, and enlarged in 1794, main- 
tains and educates 130 boys and 60 girls. There are also 
National and Lancasterian Schools, and an Infant School. 

The Greneral Hospital is a handsome brick building, 
containing 14 wards, in which are 165 beds. It is sup- 
ported chierty by the receipts of a musical festival, held in 
Birmingham every third year. The Dispensary was 
established by subscription in 1794, and affords medical 
relief to about 4000 patients annually ; it is a handsome 
building of freestone. Birmingham also possesses a Self- 
supporting Dispensary, maintained by small annual sub- 
scriptions from the poor, aided by those of the honorary 
members ; an Infirmary for Diseases of the Ear and Eye ; 
an Infirmary for the Cure of Bodily Deformity; a Fever 
Hospital ; an Asylum for Deaf and Dumb ; a School of 
Industry, in which 300 children are maintained, and 
employed in platting straw, heading pins, &c. ; Almshouses 
for the aged and infirm, and numerous and extensive funds 
for charitable purposes. 

About a mile from the town is a chalybeate spring ; and 
about three miles to the west, are the remains of a large 
quadrangular encampment, surrounded by three ditches, 
which, from the extent of its area, being more than 30 
acres, is supposed to be of Danish origin ; pieces of 
armour, broken swords, and battle-axes have been ploughed 
up in the vicinity. Inconsiderable vestiges of an ancient 
Priory are still visible in the cellars of some houses in the 
square which now occupy its site, and a great number of 
human bones and sculls have been found in the neighbour- 
hood, parts of which still bear the names of the Upper 
and Lower Priorv. 

No. VIII. Changes in the ArMosPHERE. 
There are several causes, which tend constantly to 
produce changes in the atmosphere. We have 
already noticed, that the air which we breathe is com- 
posed of several different dry gases, that it also con- 
tains a great quantity of the vapour of water in an 
invisible state, besides the vapour which exists in the 
visible form of clouds, and mists ; and that currents 
of wind are always moving some parts of the air over 
the ocean, and others over large tracts of land, by 
which they become heated or cooled, and raise greater 
or less quantities of water by evaporation. Besides 
these causes, there are others — for instance, the 
action of electricity, the effects of which upon the air 
are less known, but very great. Thus we might 
expect, from the combined action of all these causes, 
that the atmosphere should be in a state of constant 

Tiie real wonder is that, in a fluid so subtile as the 
air, yielding to every pressure, and expanding or con- 
tracting with every alteration of temperature, the 
changes of the air should be confined within such 
moderate limits as to be scarcely ever injurious. 

The principal changes in the atmosphere are those 
which affect its heat, its weight, and its moisture. 

The changes of heat, are those ot which we are the 
most sensible. But our own feelings give us a very im- 
perfect measure of heat and cold. A simple experiment 
will show this, — suppose a person puts one of his hands 
into snow, or into very cold water, and the other 
hand, at the same time, into water as hot as he can 
bear it ; and, after suffering them to remain in that 
state for a few minutes, puts both his hands into water 
moderately warm. This water will convey a sen- 
sation of warmth to the hand which has been plunged 
into the snow, but will feel cold to the hand which 

has been in the hot water. As long, then, as we trust 
merely to our own sensations, we can have but a very 
uncertain estimate even of the sensible heat and cold 
of the air, or of any other substance. Much less can 
we estimate the sensible heat of bodies which part 
w'ith their heat differently. If a piece of wood, a 
piece of marble, and a piece of iron, are all placed' in 
a room heated to a temperature much higher than 
that of the human body, and the hand is then laid 
upon each, although each of these substances have 
the same actual temperature, the iron will feel the 
hottest, the marbje not so hot, and the wood still less 
hot. And the reverse will be the case, if each is first 
exposed to the action of a temperature much colder 
than that of the human frame, it becomes, then, 
highly desirable to have some instrument, which shall 
measure exactly the changes of heat in the atmo- 
sphere, or in any other body. Such an instrument is 
called a Thermometer, a word which implies Heat- 

The principle, upon which a Thermometer is con- 
structed, is very simple. All fluids, when heated, 
swell out, so as to take up more room ; and again 
shrink, when they are cooled. Hence, if we can 
measure the quantity of expansion or contraction, we 
can measure the quantity of heat which lias been 
added, or taken away, provided that equal additions 
of heat always cause equal quantities of expansion. 
Mercury, or quicksilver, is the most convenient fluid 
for this purpose ; since, as far as can be ascertained, 
it does expand equally for all equal additions of heat, 
within the limits which it is required to measure. 
Suppose, then, a certain quantity of mercury 
to be put into a tube ab, having a very small 
uniform bore from a to n, and a bulb at the 
end B. While the end a remains open, let 
the mercury in the bulb b, be violently 
heated. The mercury will expand, so as to 
fill up the whole length of the tube, and 
drive out any air which is in it. When the 
mercury has reached a, the end of the tube at 
A must be closed, by suddenly heating it by 
means of a blow-pipe. We have now the 
bulb and the tube filled with heated mercury. 
But as the mercury is left to cool, it shrinks 
back into the bulb, leaving a part of the tube 
A perfectly empty ; except, indeed, that a 
very fine vapour of mercury still remains the 
effects of which may be neglected. 

Now suppose the bulb of the thermometer 
to be plunged into melting ice, and that the 
mercury sinks to the point f. That point is n { '^ 
called the freezing point of water, which gives — 
one natural point from which temperature 
may be measured. Again, let water be made to boil 
when the pressure of the air is in its mean state, or 
when the Barometer (which we shall afterwards 
describe) stands at a certain height, and suppose the 
mercury in the tube of the thermometer then to have 
expanded as far as the point G. This gives us a 
second natural point for measuring temperature. 
The space between f and g may be divided into such 
a number of equal parts, as may be thought con- 
venient. In Fahrenheit's thermometer, which is 
commonly used in England, the space between the 
freezing and boiling points of water is divided into 
180 equal parts : the freezing point being 32 degrees, 
and the boiUng point 212 degrees. In Reaumur s 
thermometer, the freezing point is 0, and the boiling 
point 80 ; in Celsius's thermometer, which is now 
most frequently used on the Continent, the freezing 
point is 0, and the boiling point 1 00. An easy rule 
reduces the degrees of one of these scales to either ol 

98— '.i 



Panuah? IL 

the others : but it would be a great convenience, if all 
thermometers were construct*.'d to the same scale. 

When a thermometer is graduated, or has its scale 
divided into equal parts, we have an accurate measure 
of' the sensible beat of the atmosphere, or of any 
other body to which it can be applied. And thus we 
can know precisely what changes take place in the 
temperature of the air. 

The changes in the weight of the air are also capa- 
Viie of being pxactly measured, by an instrument con- 
structed for that purpose, the Barometer, or Weiyht- 

It can easily be shown that the air has some 
weight. For if the air be pumped out of a copper 
■jali, and the empty ball be then accurately weighed, 
i a there is found to be a sensible increase 
of weight as soon as the air is again ad- 
mitted : the air being about 840 times 
lighu-r than the same bulk of water. If 
the weight of a given quantity of air 
could be accurately ascertained in this 
manner, at different times, a tolerably 
good measure of the change of weight 
might be obtained. But this change can 
be measured far more conveniently by 
taking advantage of a property of all 
fluids, of which air is one. If a bent 
tube, such as a bc, be partly filled with 
a fluid, and the tube be then held up- 
right, with the part c lowest, the fluid 
will stand at the same height in both 
branches. But, if two different fluids, 
as mercury and water; one of which is, 
bulk for bulk, heavier than the other, 
** be put in, the upper surfaces, m and w, 

will no longer be on the same level. If d be the 
point where the two fluids join, the upper surface of 
the water, w, will be fuuiteen times as much above d, 
as the upper surface of the mercury, m, is ; mercury 
being fourteen times heavier than water. And if a 
column D w of a ligliter fluid than water be above d, 
the height of the mercury in the leg c a will be pro- 
t^ortionally less. And if air were employed instead 
)f water, no air being admitted above the mercury at 
M, the height of the mercury would be only about an 
840th part as great, as if a column of water of the 
same length were used. 

Now suppose the tube b c a, having 

the leg A c more than thirty-eight 

inches long, to be perfectly closed at 

A : and that mercury were gently 

poured in at n, and that means could 

be taken to shut out all the air from 

the part a c, and to fill that leg of the 

bent tube entirely with mercury. If 

the tube were now set upright, the air 

being freely admitted at b, the upper 

surface of the mercury would be found 

to have settled at some point m, at the 

height of about thirty inches above 

the line d d, which is the level of the 

lower surface of the mercury on which 

the air rests at d. The pressure of 

the mercury above d rf is therefore the 

exact measure of the pressure of the 

air upon d, arising from the weight of 

the air in d b, and of all the air above 

** B up to the top of the atmosphere : 

and if, from any causes, the pressure 

of the air on n is increased or diminished, the 

change will be shown by a corresponding rise or fall 

»f the upper surface of the mercury at m. 

Such an instrument would be a barometer : and, if 




fitted with a scale at m, 
would show by mspection the 
change of leve' of the surface 
of the mercury, allowance 
being made for the rise or 
fall also of the surface d. 
It will be observed, that this 
explanation is not a descrip- 
tion of the manner in which 
a barometer is practically 
constructed, but simjjly to 
show familiarly the principle 
upon which it acts. The tube 
at D is generally much larger 
than the part a c ; and 
sometimes the tube a c is 
straight, with its lower end 
plunged in a basin of mer- 

In some barometers, a 
weight w rests on the sur- 
face D of the mercury, 
partly balanced by another 

weight V, suspended by a string passing over a pulley 
p. The axis of this pulley carries a pointer n, 
which marks upon a dial-plate the rise or fall of the 
surface d, and consequently the change in the 
pressure of the air. The tubes and pulley are, of 
course, concealed from view by the case of the in- 

The changes in the moisture of the air are measured 
by an Hygrometer, or Moisture-measurer. Some 
of these instruments are constructed upon the prin- 
ciple of measuring the change in certain bodies," as 
cat-gut, cord, hair, &c., which contract by moisture, 
and expand by dr)'ness : or of others, as whalebone, 
wood) &c., which expand by moisture, and contract 
by dryness. 

Another far more accurate Hygrometer, invented 
some time since by Mr. Daniell, measures the mois- 
ture of the atmosphere, by marking the temperature 
of a surface on which the moisture of the atmosphere 
just begins to be condensed in the form of dew. The 
degree of the thermometer, at which this deposition 
of moisture takes place, is called the dew-point. 


Affkcting Incident. — When Dr. Hutton was Bishop of 
Durham (as we are told by his biographer), and as he was 
travelling over Cam, betwixt Wensleydale and Ingleton, 
he suddenly dismounted, and, having delivered his horf>e 
to a servant, walked to a particular place at some distance 
fi'om the highway, wliere he kneeled down, and continued 
for some time in prayer. On his return, one of his attend- 
ants took the liberty of inquiring what was his master's 
motive for so singular an act; in answer to which, tlie 
Bishop informed him, that when he was a poor boy, with- 
out shoes or stockings, traversing this cold and bleak 
mountain on a frosty day, he remembered that he had 
disturbed a red cow, then lying on that identical place, in 

order to warm his feet and legs on the spot. Whitaker's 

History of Richmondshire. 

Sentences of Thales, of Miletus, m Ionia, one of the 
Seven Sages of Greece, born 580 years before the Chris- 
tian era. 

What is it that is most beautiful .; The Universe ; for 

it is the work of God. 

What is most powerftil? — Necessity; because it tri- 
umphs over all things. 

■What is most ditlieult? To know one's self. 

Wliat is most easy ? To give advice. 

What method must we take to lead a good life i To do 

nothing we would condemn in others. 

What is necessary to happiness ? A sound body and a 

contented mind. 





It is well known, that most parts of India are still 
grievously infested with wild bea.sts. In all situations, 
exeept those most inhabited, the lion, or the tiger, or 
the buffalo, render a passage tlirough the jungles, or 
thickets, in an e.\treme degree dangerous. It is 
essential, therefore, to the safety of the inhabitants, 
that these powerful enemies should be kept in sub- 
jection i and this desirable object is effected by enter- 
prising and intrepid persons, at the hazard of their 
own personal safety. 

In the pursuit of the fcjrmidable tiger, the elephant 
is a most useful assistant, and in this work it dis- 
plays the greatest sagacity and courage. Such is its 
care of i^s rider, that, in passing through the jungles, 
whenever a branch hangs in the way of the howdah, 
or seat raised on his back, although the elephant 
itself could easily pass in security under it, yet, 
knowing it would injure or incommode its master, 
the considerate animal seizes it with its trunk, and 
rends it off, that no inconvenience may be sustained 
by his rider. So.Tldso, it is most useful in giving 
notice of a tiger beiHg near; for, whenever an ele- 
phant scents a tiger, which it can do at some 
distance, it utters a shrill cry. But it is in the attack 
that it chiefly displays its powers of usefulness ; for 
then it raises its trunk perpendicularly, so that when 
the tiger charges, it may be prepared to repel the 
attack, as also to prevent a surprise; since, if the 
tiger can but seize the trunk, the elephant is dis- 
armed. The leaps, or springs, which the tiger makes 
in. its charge, are truly astonishing, yet a well-trained 
elephant will, generally, succeed in repeUing the most 
furious attack, by dashing the springing tiger to the 
earth with its trunk, when, if its foe be at all stunned 
or maimed by the fall, or wounded by the rifle of 
the rider, the ponderous foot of the mighty beast 
will actually crush the fallen victim, and at once 
complete its destruction. But it sometimes does 
happen, that an elephant turns away from the con- 
test ; and when this is the case, the life of the rider is 

in the greatest jeopardy, for the tiger can easily climb 
up on the elephant in the rear, and seize the person in 
the howdah before he can turn to defend himself. An 
instance of such a seizure occurred some few years 
ago. The circumstances were these. 

A party of Europeans, consisting of some indigo- 
planters, and of some officers of a native regiment, 
stationed in their neighbourhood, went into the jungles 
for the purpose of shooting tigers. They had not 
proceeded far, before they roused an immense 
tigress, which, with the greatest intrepidity, charged 
the line of elephants on which they were seated. 
At this moment, a female elephant, in the direct 
point of attack, which had been lately purchased, 
and was hitherto untried, through dread of the 
approaching enemy, turned suddenly round to fly 
from the field of battle. It was in vain that the 
mohaut, or driver, exerted all his skill to make her 
face the tigress. The active creature, therefore, 
instantly sprang upon her back, and seizing the 
person in the howdah by the thigh, speedily brought 
him to the ground : then throwing him, qviite stunned 
by the fall, over her shoulders, just in the same 
manner as a fox carries a goose, she started off to 
the jungle. Every rifle was pointed at her; but no 
one dared to fire, because of the position in which 
the captive lay on the tigress's back. She went 
through the jungle-grass much faster than the 
elephants could, so that the party soon lost sight of 
their prey : yet they wtre enabled to trace her by 
the blood in her track ; and, as a forlorn hope, they 
resolved to follow on, to see if it were possible to 
save the remains of their friend from being devoured 
by the ferocious brute. As they proceeded, the 
traces grew fainter and fainter, until at length, 
bewildered in the heart of the jungle, they were 
about to give up the search in despair, when all at 
once, they came, most unexpectedly, upon the objtcts 
of their pursuit. To their infinite astonisbmeut they 
beheld the tigresa lying dead upon the loni» j^igl'* 



[January 1 1 

grass, still griping fast the limb of their unfortunate 
companion in her tremendous jaws: whilst he, 
though still sensible, was unable, from loss of 
blood, to reply to the questions put to him. To 
extricate his leg from the creature's mouth they 
found impossible, without first cutting off her head. 
Tliis therefore was immediately done, and the jaws 
being separated, the fangs were drawn out of the 
wounds: and, as one of the party providentially 
happened to be a surgeon, the patient was properly 
attended to ; and the party had the great felicity of 
returning with their friend, rescued from the most 
perilious situation, and with hopes of his recovery. 
He was taken to the nearest bnngalow, and by the 
aid thus afforded, he was in a short time able to see 
his friends, when he explained to them the means by 
which he was preserved. 

For some time after the animal had seized him, it 
appeared that he had continued insensible, being 
stunned by the fall, faint from the loss of blood, as 
well as from the excruciating pain which her fangs 
inflicted. When he came to himself, he discovered 
that he was lying on the back of the tigress, who 
was trotting along at a smart pace through the jun- 
gle, whilst at times, his face and hands received the 
most violent scratches, from the thorns and bushes 
through which she dragged him. He gave himself 
up as lost, considering that not the least glimpse of 
hope remained, and consequently, determined to lie 
quietly on her back, waiting the issue — when it struck 
him that he had a pair of pistols in his girdle, 
with which he might yet destroy his captor. After 
several attempts, which, from the weakness which 
the loss of blood had occasioned, proved ineffectual, 
he at length succeeded iu drawing one of them from 
the belt, and directed it at the creature's head. He 
fired, bvit the only effect it seemed to produce, was, 
that after giving him an angry shake, by which she 
made her fangs meet more closely in his flesh, her 
pace was quickened. From the agonizing pain this 
caused, he again fainted away ; and remained totally 
unconscious of what was passing for some minutes. 
However, recovering a little, he determined to try the 
effect of another shot, in a different place. Drawing 
the remaining pistol from his girdle, and pointing the 
muzzle under the blade-bone of the shoulder, in the 
direction of the heart, he once more fired: the tigress 
lei! dead in a moment, and neither howled nor strug- 
gled after she fell. 

But he was not yet out of danger. He had not 

the power to call out for aid, and consequently, 

though he heard his friends approaching, he feared, 

lest they might pass the spot, without observing 

where he lay. Happily, however, it proved otherwise, 

and thus his life was saved. Under medical care, he 

recovered from his wounds: and though, from his 

thigh being so dreadfully torn by the fangs of the 

tigress, he afterwards suffered from lameness, yet he 

had abundant reason to be thankful, for being thus 

providentially preserved. D. I. E. 

fFrom Statham s Indian RecoUectioits.^ 

The animals and costumes in our Engraving are adopted from the 
.-pirited Plates of Eastern Sports in Captain Mundav's lively 
and interesting Sketches nf India 

If we are free from the torment of painful disease, from 
which 80 many sufTor ; or from disasters of broken limbs, 
and all those many other miseries which threaten human 
nature; let us, therefore, rejoice and be thankful. Nay, 
which is a far greater mercy. If we are free from the 
burden :f an accusing, tormenting conscience, a misery 
that none can bear, let us, therefore, praise God for his 
preventing grace ; and say, every misery t'nat I miss is a 
oow merey. — Izaak Walton. 


IV. The Division of Labour. — Division or 

One advantage of the division of labour is, that iu a 
great variety of cases, nearly the same time and 
labour are required to do the same thing on a larger 
or on a smaller scale. The most familiar instance of 
this, is the carriage of letters. It makes very little 
difference of trouble, and none of time, to carry one 
letter, or a whole parcel of letters, from one town to 
another: and hence, though there is no particular 
skill wanted iu this business, there is, perhaps, na 
one instance that shows more clearly the benefit of 
the division of labour than the establishment of the 
Post-office. Were it not for the Post-office, each 
person would have to send a special messenger, 
when he wanted to write to his friend at a distance. 

But there is an advantage of this kind which 
would be obtained immediately, and without the lapse 
of time taken up in observation and practice. In 
fact, a division of labour is almost instantly adopted 
for the occasion, in any case that suddenly demands 
it, even when there is no peculiar fitness in each 
person for the part allotted to him, and no thought 
of making the plan permanent. For instance, 
suppose a company travelling through some nearly 
desert country, such as many parts of America, and 
journeying together in a kind of caravan, for the 
sake of common security: when they came to a 
halting-place for the night, they would not fail to 
make some kind of arrangement off-hand, that some 
should unlade and fodder the cattle, while others 
should fetch fire-wood from the nearest thicket, and 
others, water from the spring: some, in the mean 
time, would be occupied in pitching the tents, or 
raising sheds of boughs ; others, in getting food ready 
for the whole party; while some again, with their 
arms prepared, would be posted as sentinels in fit 
spots, to watch that the rest might not be surprised 
by bands of robbers. It would be plain to them, 
that but for such a plan, each man would have to go 
to the spring for water, and to the wood for fuel ; 
would have to dress his own meal, with almost as 
much trouble as it costs to dress food for the whole ; 
and would have to go through all these tasks, 
encumbered with his arms, and on the watch against 
mischief from without. Of course, if some of our 
supposed party chanced to be by nature, or by 
practice, well suited to some particular task, and 
others for another, these would be accordingly allotted 
to them in preference ; but if all were alike in these 
points, the division of labour wotild still take place, 
and the chief advantage of it would still be felt. 

Such a case as this exhibits an instance of what 
may be called a temporary community, containing a • 
variety of labourers employed in their several callings. 
One portion of the members of a community, are 
occupied in protecting the rest from mischief; 
another in providing them with food; another in 
building their dwellings ; and so of the rest. 

But in order to the existence of such a state of 
things, it is necessary that the rights of property 
should be acknowledged, and that property should 
be well secured. " It is this main spring" (says 
Bishop Sumner, in the second volume of the Recorc'j 
of the Creation) " which keeps the arts and civilized 
industry in motion. ' The first, who, having enclosed 
a spot of ground, has taken upon himself to assert, 
This is mine, and has remained undisturbed in the 
possession of it, gives a new aspect to society,' and 
lays the foundation, not of crimes, and wars, and 
murders, as Rousseau proceeds to say, as if these 




were unknown to the savage; but he lays the foun- 
dation of improvement and civiUzation. 

" Man is easily brought, and quickly reconciled to 
labour; but he does not undertake it for nothing. 
If he is in possession of immediate ease, he can only 
be induced to relinquish that present advantage, by 
the allurement of expected gain. Gratification, 
which, in some degree or other, forms the chief 
excitement of civilized life, is almost unknown to the 
savage. The only stimidus felt by him, is that of 
necessity. He is impelled by hunger to hunt for 
subsistence, and by cold, to provide against the 
rigour of the seasons. When his stock of provision 
is laid in, his rude clothing prepared, aud his cabin 
constructed, he relapses into indolence ; for the wants 
of necessity are supplied, and the stimulus, which 
urged him, is removed. However skilful he may be 
in the preparation of skins for clothing, or of reeds 
for building, beyond the wants of his own family, he 
has no demand for ingenuity or skill; for the 
equality of property has confined each man's pos- 
sessions to the bare necessaries of life ; and though 
he were to employ his art in providing for his whole 
tribe, they have nothing to offer him in exchange. As 
long as this state of things continues, it is plain, that 
we can expect neither improvement of art, nor exer- 
tion of industry. Whatever is fabricated, will be 
fabricated with almost equal rudeness, whilst each 
individual supplies his own wants; and he will con- 
tinue to supply them, as long as the wants of the 
society are limited to the wants of nature. An 
intelligent traveller, who had an opportunity of ob- 
serving this on the spot, remarks, exactly to the 
point, that ' the Indians of Guiana have no interest 
in the accumulation of property, and therefore, are 
not led to labour in order to attain wealth. Living 
under the most perfect equality, they are not iinpelled 
to industry, by that spirit of emulation which, in 
societ}-, leads to great and unwearied toil.' 

" But as soon as it has been agreed, by a compact 
of whatever kind, that the property before belonging 
to the community at large, shall be divided among 
the individuals who compose it, and, that whatever 
each of them shall hereafter obtain, shall be con- 
sidered as his exclusive possession ; the effect of this 
division will show, that industry requires no other 
stimulus, than a reward proportioned to its exertion. 

" We have an instance in the natives of the 
Pellew Islands, who, deprived as they were of all 
e.xtemal advantages, afford a most decisive contrast 
to the inactivity of the American tribes. Before 
their accidental discovery in 1 783, they liad enjoyed 
no intercourse with civilized nations, had no acquaint- 
ance with the use of iron, or the cultivation of corn, 
or regular manufacture ; but they had been fortunate 
in the establishment of a division of ranks, ascending 
from the servant to the king, and a division of pro- 
perty, rendering not only every man's house, furni- 
ture, or canoe his own, but also the land allotted to 
him, as long as he occupied and cultivated it. The 
effect of this is to be seen in habits so different from 
those liitherto represented, that the portion of time each 
family could spare from providing for their natural 
wants, was passed in the exercise of such little arts, as, 
while they kept them active and industrious, adminis- 
tered to their convenience and comfort. Here, ako, 
were no traces of that want of curiosity which all 
travellers remark as so extraordinary in America; 
industry had sharpened their minds. The natives were 
constantly interested in obtaining every information 
respecting the English tools and workmansliip." 

Aft'rr quoting thus largely from Bisliop Sumner's 
work, we have to observe, that the wliole chapter 

(Chap. III., Part. II.) is well worth a perusal, with a 
view to the point before us. 

When, then, this distribution of employments had 
been established, the benefits arising from it to each 
individual would be so obvious, that it would tend 
towards a continual increase ; the individual would 
easily discover, that he could much better supply his 
own wants by giving his whole, or his chief attention 
to one, or to a few, kinds of employment, and receiv- 
ing from his neighbours in return the fruits of their 
industry, than by himself providing directly for all 
his own wants. As for the benefit thence arising to 
the COMMUNITY, that is a provision of Divine Wisdom ; 
it is not necessary, nor is it usually the case, that 
each, who labours in his own department, should be 
uYged to do so by public spirit, or should even per- 
ceive and contemplate (as in the case of our supposed 
little party of travellers), the benefit he is conl'erring 
on the rest. D. 

II. The Idol of the Moon. 
In our last number we gave a list of seven of the idol 
deities, which, in the early times of Britain, not only 
received the : adoration of the English Saxons, but 
furnished names to the various days of the week. 
Of these the Idol of the Moon, whence comes Mon- 
day, stands the second. 

It was for the purpose of getting rid of this gross kind 
of idolatry which the Saxons had brought with them 
into Britain, that Augustin, or Austin, was sent hither 
by Pope Gregory the First, about the year 600. The 
incident which is said to have led to this measure is 
very striking and curious ; and though it is one with 
which many of our readers are, doubtless well 
acquainted, as forming an interesting portion of early 
English history, we cannot deny ourselves the plea- 
sure of stating it in the old and quaint style of a 
writer of 1605, (R. Verstegan.) 

" It happened in the time that Aella reigned King of 
Deira, sometime a part of the kingdom of theNortlmm- 
bers, that certain English children of that country, 
(whether taken in war, and so transported by enemies, 
or that it were tolerable among Pagan people to sell 
away their cliildren,) vvere brought to Rome to be sold, 
(as captive heathen people are wont to be among Chris  
tians,) and standing there in the market. A certain 
reverend religious father, named Gregory, being a 
man (as witncsseth Venerable Bede,) of the greatest 
virtue and learning of his time, coming thither, and 
beholding them to be of a very fair complexion, 
ruddy and white, with yellowish hair, demanded of 
the merchant that had them to sell, of whence they 
were? which being told him, he asked if tliey \vere 
christened ? It was answered that they were not : 
whereat, fetching a deep sigh, he said, Alas ! that tlie 
author of darkness should yet detain people of sucli 
bright countenances in his possession, and that those 
with such fair faces should inwardly carry such foul 
souls. Demanding by what name this people were 
called, answer was made him that tliey were called 
Angles, or rather (if it were pronounced as they 
called themselves,) CcngcltSct, that is to say, English. 
The reverend Father perceiving this name to allude 
unto the name of Angeli, in Latin, said. Verily, not 
without cause are they called Angles, for they have 
faces like Angels, and meet it were that such were 
made partakers and coheirs witli the angels in heaven. 
Then demanded he the name of the province from 
whence they came ; and it was answered him. They 
were of Dcira. That is well, quotli he, for they are 
to Ije delivered De ira Dei, that is, from the wrath of 



[January 11, 1834. 

God, and called to the mercy of Christ What is 
the name, quoth he, of the king of that country? 
It was answered that his name was Aella ,- unto which 
name also alluding, Ali.elujah, quoth he, must be 
sounded in that prince's dominions, to the praise of 
Almighty God his Creator. And being stricken 
with much compassion, to behold that such angelical 
l>eople, in respect of their great beauty and come- 
liness, should continue the bond-slaves of the foul 
fiend of hell, he went, kc." Then follows an account 
of Gregory's intention to visit England, towards 
which he took a three days' journey ; of his 
recall by the entreaty of the people of Rome; and 
lastly, on his elevation to the popedom, of his 
sending Augustine and certain other monks to this 
country. They " after some difliculties and their 
long journey, arrived in the Isle of Thanet," where 
King Ethelbert gave them audience, the result of 
which, was the baptism of the monarch and of most 
of his subjects, " the turning away of the people 
from serving and sacrificing unto their idols,. Thor, 
Woden, Friga, and the like; overthrowing the 
synagogue of Satan, and breaking down the abomi- 
nable idols before mentioned." 

Although it is certain, that through this conversion 
of the Anglo-Saxons by Augustine, Rome laid the first 
stone towards the foundation of her power in England; 
it is equally clear, that before that time, the Christian 
Church existed here and in Ireland, independent of 
that of Rome. Augustine could not prevail on the 
British bishops in Wales, to own allegiance to the 
Roman Pontiff; and Bede mentions, that the Irish 
bishops and priests differed from Rome, in the observ- 
ance of Easter. The learned Archbishop Usher, in 
his treatise on the State and Succession of the Christian 
Churches, has shown this point at large. " He proves, 
from authors of undoubted credit," says Mr. Hone in 
his Life of Usher, " that even in the darkest and most 
ignorant times, Christ has always had a visible 
Church, untainted with the errors and corruptions of 
Romanism, and that these islands do not owe their 
Christianity to Rome." This is an answer to the 
inquiry, "Where was our religion before Luther?" 

It now only remains, in illustration of the print, 
to refer to the description by Verstegan. 

" The next, according to the course of the days of the 
week, was the Idol of the Moon, whereof we yet retain the 

name of Monday, instead of Moon-day, and it was made 
according to the ])icture here t'ollowing ; — 


" The form of this Idol seemeth very strange and 
ridiculous: for being made for a woman, she hath a short 
coat like a man : but more strange it is, to see her hood 
with such two long ears. The holding of a moon before 
her, may seem to have been to express what she is, but the 
reason of her chapron* with long ears, as also of her short 
coat, and pyked shoes, I do not find." 

• Chaperon^ French, a hood. 

Lord Burleigh. — That great and wise mmister was used) 
to say, " 1 will never trust any man not of sound religionij 
for he that is false to God, can never be true to man " ;?. 



LONDON; Published by J OH N WILLIAM PARKF.U. WfstStuand: and sold by all I!cok.«<llei^. 



N9 99. 



18™, 1834. 

< Prick 
1 Onb Pbnny. 


Vol. IV. 





Many of our readers must have heard of Tivoli, 
the Tibur of the ancients, — so famed for the love- 
liness of its scenery, — for its beautiful groves, and 
its crumbling ruins, — its dark frowning caverns, 
and the wild cascades, which, dashing down its rocky 
steeps, rush, with frightful speed and deafening roar, 
into deep black yawning gulfs beneath. Its pic- 
turesque charms attract the attention of all travel- 
lers who visit Rome ; and the stranger's pilgrimage 
to the " Eternal City" would be incomplete indeed, 
without an " excursion to Tivoli." 

This enchanting spot stands to the north-eastward 
of Rome, at a distance of about nineteen miles. It 
is a bold eminence, rising out of the tract of 
country called the Campagna, and forming the 
termination of a projecting spur from the great 
chain of the Apennines, with which it is more 
immediately connected by the Sabine hills. The 
abruptness of its elevation produces a succession 
of rocky heights, which break the waters of the 
Teverone, into those splendid cascades, that con- 
tribute so largely to the beauty of the surrounding 
landscape. This river, the Anio of antiquity, has 
its source among the Apennines, in a cluster of 
lakes; early in its course, it suffers frequent inter- 
ruptions, but thence continues flowing placidly along 
between shady hills, until at Tivoli, where the high 
ground terminates, it falls headlong down into the 
plain below. Above, stands the town, its site occu- 
pying both banks of the river; beyond it, on the 
North and East, rise, afar off, the mountains of the 
Sabine country ; to the South, appear the heights of 
Frascati, bounding the plain into which the hill ot 
Tivoli on that side slopes in steep declivities; while 
to the West, the view is open, and extends along the 
winding stream of the Teverone, as far as the great 
city itself, whose loftier buildings rear their high 
heads, conspicuous in the distance. 

The road leading from Rome to Tivoli, passes 
through one of the most dreary and desolate por- 
tions of the extensive wilderness, which encompasses 
the " imperial city" on all sides, and renders its ap- 
proach so melancholy and so sublime. After cross- 
ing and re-crossing the Teverone, by Roman 
bridges, the traveller arrives within three miles of 
Tivoli, at a spot where the circular monument of the 
Plautian family, much distinguished in the later days 
of the Republic, presents a fine and interesting ob- 
ject. To the right, a narrow by-way branches off 
to the remains of the villa of Hadrian, while the 
main road continues towards the town, ascending the 
steep hills on wliich it stands, through the extensive 
olive-groves that clothe their southern declivities. 
The first object that engages his attention on his 
arrival, is tlie ruin of a beautiful little circular 
temple, which crowns the summit of the rocky 
precipice, suspended, as it were, above the great 
cascade. This exquisite remain, which is by some 
assigned to the goddess Vesta, by others to the 
Sibyl, who reigned in the neighbouring groves, 
stands in a yard at the back of the " Sibilla Inn;" 
it consists of ten Corinthian columns, above which 
rises the entablature, originally supported by eighteen. 
Its appearance is extremely picturesque, and har- 
monizes well with the scenery around. Some years 
since, its beauty attracted the notice of an English 
nobleman, who purchased it of the inn-keeper, with 
the intention of transporting it to England, and re- 
erecting it in his park. The owner was just pre- 
paring to pull it down, when an order from the Papal 
government annulled the sale, and stayed all further 
proceedings. Our 'caders may obtain a correct 

notion of this temple, by observing the north-west 
corner of the Bank of England, where its columns 
and entablature have been closely imitated, and a 
portion of its circular form also adopted. 

Not far from this ancient edifice, are the remains 
of a little square building, which is supposed, by 
those who regard its neighbour as that of Vesta, to be 
the real temple of the Sibyl. The back of the temple, 
with a portion of one flank, and some Ionic half- 
columns, much decayed, are all that now exist. By 
its side, a winding pathway leads down the cliasm into 
which the great cascade pours its rapid waters, and 
conducts to the grotto of Neptune, — a dark cavern, 
from which another fall, half-subterranean, rushes 
forth, aud joins its foaming stream to that which 
rolls from above. The united mass dashes with 
frightful impetuosity into the deep and dark abyss 
below, and after tumbling a little among the rocks, 
is lost in a second cavern, called the grotto of the 
Siren. Crossing the stream on the top of this 
cavern, which forms the natxiral bridge of the Ponte 
di Lupo, the traveller descends on ftie opposite side, 
and entering its mouth, looks down into the channel 
through which the river rushes to its bed below. 
When he has reached the k)wer part of the stream, 
the view above him is enchanting. " Looking up- 
wards," says Mr. Woods, " you see the temple, the 
city, the rocks, the falls, combined in the most 
magical manner. It is a scene, however, which it is 
difficult to characterize. It might be called sublime, 
if the objects of beauty were not so numerous ; and 
if its sublimity and beauty were less impressive, 
you would pronounce it the most picturesque view 
that was ever beheld." 

But the charms in which nature has decked this 
fairy scene are not its only attractions ; it is linked 
with many classic recollections, and rich in pleasing 
associations to all who love to contemplate the bright 
days of old Rome, and look with interest on every me- 
morial of her greatness. Its proximity to the capital, 
the beauty of its situation, the salubrity of its air, 
and the fertility of its adjacent fields, all conspired to 
render it agreeable to the Romans, as a retreat from 
the anxious cares and occupations of their city ; and 
the number and extent of the ruins which still adorn 
the neighbourhood of Tivoli, amplv attest the estima- 
tion in which it was held. Tradition yet marks tlie 
spot, where is said to have once stood the splendid 
palace of the famed Maecenas, the wise counsellor of 
Augustus, and the liberal patron of genius and 
learning. Ruined villas (or rather the fragments of 
them,) are still pointed out, to which are attached 
the names of Brutus and Cassius, and the Pisos, 
and Varus, and Lepidus, and others, under the 
questionable belief that they once belonged to 
those noble Romans, The Emperor Hadrian here 
had his celebrated villa, and the ruins which yet 
exist are numerous. " The extent," says Mr. Woods, 
" is immense ; we walked for above a mile among 
arches, great semi-domed recesses, long walls and 
corridors, and spacious courts ; through an immense 
number of small apartmexits and large halls." — 
" Baths, academies, porticoes, a library, a paltestra *, a 
bippodromei , a menageriej, a naumachia^, an aqueductj], 
theatres, both Greek and Latin, temples for different 
rites, every appurtenance suitable to an imperial 
seat," says Mr. Forsyth, " opened before me ; but 
its magnificence is gone ; it has passed to the Vatican, 

• A place for athletic exercises, 
t A place appropriated to equestrian exercises, 
i The Romans expressed the sigmfication of this word by rnartum 
It meant, as with us, a place where live animals were Icept. 
i A place for the exhibition of sea-fights. 
J A conduit for the conveyance of water, supported on annia. 




it is scattered over Italy ; it may be traced in France. 
Any where but at Tivoli may you look for the statues 
and caryatides* , the columns, the oriental marbles, and 
the mosaics, with which the villa was once adorned, 
or supported, or wainscoted, or floored." The causes 
of this ruin are other than the attacks of time. 
" Hadrian's invidious successors neglected or unfur- 
nished it ; the Goths sacked it ; the masons of the 
dark ages pounded its marbles into cement ; and anti- 
quarian popes and cardinals dug into its concealing 
continents, only to plunder it." 

The modern town of Tivoli is dirty and disagreeable 
in the extreme; and the meanness of its appearance 
but ill accords with the grandeur of the scenery in 
which it is embosomed. Its streets are filthy, and 
the houses small; although occasionally are to be 
seen some large mansions. The population is said 
to amount to 10,000 inhabitants; but the town has 
greatly declined from its ancient importance. 

The engraving prefixed to this article, contains 
a view of the Piazza Publico, or Market-PIace, 
and exhibits a curious picture indeed. The centre 
of attraction seems to be some .very interesting 
exhibition, which engrosses the attention of a 
motley crowd of loiterers. The ever-active Punch, 
or PulcincUo, as he is called, is of course present, and 
contributing to their amusement. This curious 
personage is purely an Italian character, and bears 
no resemblance to the grotesque show which usurps 
the name with us. He seems to be a caricature of 
the Apulian peasant, and is introduced in almost 
every farce in the Italian Theatre, playing a part 
similar to that usually assigned to the Vice, or Fool, 
in our old English moralities. He is naturally a Nea- 
politan, and among his countrymen is, as Mr. Forsyth 
observes, "a person of real power; he dresses up 
and retails all the drolleries of the day ; he is the 
channel, and sometimes the source of the passing 
opinions; he can inflict ridicule, he could gain a mob, 
or keep the whole kingdom in good humour." 

The dress of Pulcinello, is a very ample shirt, 
hanging down on every side, but particularly in front, 
over a pair of white trowsers. The design of this 
costume, Mr. Galiffe suggests, is to show the capacity 
he could fill, if he had but enough to eat of his 
favourite maccaroni. " He wears (like harlequin) 
on the upper part of his face, a black half-mask, of 
which," says that gentleman, " I could never guess 
the origin. His character is a strange mixture of 
the deepest ignorance and natural wit; malice and 
simplicity ; keen repartees ; cunning and stupidity. 
He is always a thief and a pickpocket; but at 
the same time, is himself the easiest of dupes ; a 
great braggadocio, but a complete coward. When- 
ever questions are put to him, to which he cannot 
reply without danger, he affects downright idiocy, 
and pretends not to understand a word. He does 
not bear ill-will to others, but he has a particular fond- 
ness for himself; and he has an enormous appetite, 
without the means of feeding it. In short, he is hke 
Caliban in some things, like Sancho in others, like 
Falstaff in many, but yet different from them all." 

Tivoli possesses a cathedral and several churches, 
many of which proliably occupy the sites of ancient 
temples. The inhabitants embraced the Christian 
religion at an early period ; and the annalist, Baro- 
nius, preserves a traditionary legend, which ascribes 
lueir conversion to a curious event, quite in accord- 
ance with the romantic character of the region in 
which its occurrence is placed. It appears, that, in 
the reign of the Emperor Decius, a young lady of 
noble extractiim, named Victoria, was warned by an 

• Femals •tatue», used in architecturs as tke substitutes of 

angel to consecrate herself to heaven. A young 
patrician, however, to whom she had been betrothed, 
opposed her desire of obeying what she regarded as 
the Divine command; and on her persisting in her 
determination, she was sent to Tivoli, and there 
confined until she should abandon her design. At 
that time, a poisonous dragon infested the neigh- 
bourhood of the town, and was a terror to its inha- 
bitants. Victoria promised that she would subdue 
the dreaded foe, on the condition that the Tiburtines 
would consent, in return, to become Christians. 
She succeeded, and they adopted her religion ; and 
among the converts, who are said to have yielded to 
the influence of this miracle, Baronius places Ze- 
nobia, the captive queen of Palmyra, who had graced 
the triumph of the Emperor Aurelian, and to whom 
a residence near Tibur had been assigned. 


The following anecdote is taken from A Visit to Flanders 
and will gi\e some idea of the kind of scenes that were 
passing during the memorable battle of Waterloo. 

" I had the good fortune," says the intelligent writer, 
" to travel from Brussels to Paris with a young Irish officer 
and his wife, an Antwerp lady of only sixteen, of great 
beauty a-nd innocence. The husband was at the battle of 
Quatre-Bras as well as that of Waterloo. The unexpected 
advance of the French called him off at a moment's notice 
to Quatre-Bras ; but he left with his wife, his servant, one 
horse, and the family baggage, which was packed upon 
an ass. Retreat at the time was not anticipated, but 
being suddenly ordered, he contrived to get a message to 
his wife, to make the best of her way, attended by the 
servant and baggage, to Brussels. The servant, a foreigner, 
had availed himself of the opportunity to take leave of 
both master and mistress, and make off with the horse, 
leaving the helpless young lady alone with the baggage-ass. 

With a firmness becoming the wife of a British officer, 
she boldly commenced, on foot, her retreat of twentv- 
flve miles, leading the ass by the bridle, and carefully 
preserving the baggage. No violence was dared by any 
one to so innocent a pilgrim, but no one could venture to 
assist her. She was soon in the midst of the retreating 
British aniiy, and much retarded and endangered by the 
artillery; her fatigue was great ; it rained in torrents, and 
the thtnider and lightning were dreadful in the extreme. 
She continued to advance, and got upon the great road 
from Charleroi to Brussels, at Waterloo, in the evening, 
when tne army were taking up their line for the awful 
conflict. In so extensive a field, among 80,000 men, 
it was in vain to seek her husband ; she knew that the 
sight of her there would embarrass and distress him, 
she kept slowly advancing to Brussels all night, the 
road choaked with all sorts of conveyan('es, waggons, 
and horses ; multitudes of fugitives on the road, and 
flying into the great road, and many of the wounded 
walking their painful way, dropping at every step, and 
breathing their last ; here and there lay a corpse or a limb, 
particularly, as she said, several hands. Many persons 
were actually killed by others, if they by chance stood in 
the way of their endeavours to help themselves ; and to 
add to the horrors, the rain continued unabated, and the 
thunder and lightning still raged as if the heavens were 
torn to pieces. 

Full twelve miles further, during the night, this young 
woman marched, up to her knees in mud, her boots 
worn entirely off, so that she was bare-footed, but still, 
unhurt, she led her ass ; and, although thousands lost 
their baggage, and many their lives, she calmly entered 
Brussels on the morning in safety, self, ass, bag, and 
baggage, without the loss of an article. In a few hours 
after her arrival commenced the cannons' roar of the 
tremendous battle of Waterloo, exposed to which, for ten 
hours, she knew her husband to be ; she was rewarded, 
amply rewarded, by finding herself in her husband's arms, 
he unhurt, and she nothing the worse, on the following 
day. The officer told the tale himself with tears in his eyes. 
With a slight Irish accent, he called her his dear littlo 
woman, and said she became more valuable to him every 
dav of his life. 




[Januart 18, 


It is related of some good man, (I fon;et who,) that, upon 
hi» deatli-be<i, he reeommended his son to employ himself 
in cultivating a garden, and in composing verses, thinking 
these to be at once the happiest and the most harmless of 
all pursuits. Poetry may be, and too often has been, 
wickedly perverted to evil purposes, — what imle'jd is there 
tliat may not, when Religion itself is not safe from such 
abuses ! But the good which it does, inestimably exceeds 
the evil. It is no trilling good to provide means of inno- 
cent and intellectual enjoyment for so many thousands, in 
a state like ours ; an enjoyment, heightened, as in every 
instance it is within some little circle, by personal conside- 
rations, raising it to a degree which may deserve to be 
called happiness. It is no trifling good to win the ear of 
children with verses which foster in them the seeds of 
humanity, and tenderness, and piety ; awaken their fancy, 
and, pleasurably and wholesomely, their imagi- 
native and meditative powers. It is no trifling benefit to 
provide a ready mirror for the young, in which they may 
see their own best feelings reflected, and wherein " what- 
soever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, what- 
soever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely," are 
presented to them in the most attractive form. It is no 
tiifling benefit to send abroad strains which may assist in 
preparing the heart for its trials, and in supporting it 
under them. But there is a greater good than this, — a 
further benefit. Although it is in verse that the most con- 
summate skill in composition is to be looked for, and all 
the artifice of language displayed, yet it is in verse only 
that we throw off the yoke of the world, and are, as it 
were, privileged to utter our deepest and holiest feelings. 
Poetry, in this respect, may be called the salt of the earth; 
we express in it, and receive in it sentiments, for which, 
were it not for this permitted medium, the usages of the 
worl<l would neither allow utterance nor acceptance. And 
who can tell, in our heart-chilling and heart-hardening 
society, how much more selfish, how much more debased, 
how much worse we should have been, in all moral and 
intellectual respects, had it not been for the unnoticed and 
unsuspected influence of this preservative ? Even much ot 
that poetry, which is in its composition worthless, or abso- 
lutely bad, contributes to this good. Even those poets who 
contribute to the mere amusement of their readers, while 
that amusement is harmless, are to be regarded with com 
placency, if not respect. They are the butterflies of literature, 
who, during the short season of their summer, enliven the 
garden and the field. It were pity to touch them even 
with a tender hand, lest we should brush the down from 
their wings. Southey. 


Hail, sweet Content, thy joy impart. 
Entwine thy wreath around my heart ; 
When mom unfolds the gates of light, 
When orient beams salute my sight. 
And when the full meridian hour. 
Delays the sun's refulgent power ; 
When Sol's retiring, tepid ray. 
Proclaims the dusky close of day ; 
When night, enveiled in sombre' hue. 
Bids all Aurora's tints adieu. 
May kind contentment bless my soul. 
And Care's corrosive power control ! 
In this bright world, with blessings fraught. 
Can man indulge one gloomy thought? 
Can he exclaim, in cold ennui. 
This world presents no charms for me ? 
Ungrateful, thus, for blessings given. 
Impeach the generous will of heaven ! 
The night, the morn, the fervid noon. 
The solar bea.ns, the silver moon, 
The gentle shower, the purling rill, 
Tlie smiling vale, the rising hill. 
The health-inspiring gale that blows. 
Each sweetly-blooming flower that grows. 
The fertile land, the curling .sea. 
Are given, ungrateful man, to thee ! 
Then let Contentment's sterling worth. 
Give thee a splendid heaven on earth. 

The greater part ot mankind, employ their first years to 
in.Tke their last miserable. Dk la Bruverb. 

Paulinus, the famous Missionarj' among the Saxons 
of Northumberland, according to Bede, in the year of 
our Lord 627, visited Bernicia, which comprised the 
country between the Tyne and the Frith of Forth, 
and baptized great multitudes of the inhabitants ia 
the River Glen, near the royal residence of Adyefrir, 
now called Yevering in Glendale, which is a secluded 
and beautiful vale in Northumberland. Tradition 
also consecrates the Wells of Waltown, the birth- 
place of Bishop Ridley, and of Halystone, as places 
where the same distinguished Missionary of the see of 
Rome initiated great numbers of the neighbouring 
people into the doctrines of the Christian faith ; 
and Leland says, that " some hold the opinion, that at 
Halystane, on the River Coquet, Paulinus in one day 
christened 3000 people." The name of Halystone, 
indeed, very clearly points it out as a place where 
some cross or pillar had, in ancient times, been 
erected, to commemorate some important event, con- 
nected with the rites or history of the church of 


The high antiquity of the place may also be 
inferred, from a Roman paved road running past it, 
from the great station of Bremeiiinm in Rcdcsdale, 
to Badle Bay, opposite to Lindisfarne, or Holy 
Island ; and it seems highly probable, that the 
Bishop and Monks of the Cathedral there, when they 
fled before the arms of the Danes with the body of 
St. Cuthbert, in 875, travelled upon this road, and set 
up here, as in many other places where they rested, 
some memorial of the spot having been consecrated 
by the presence of the remains of an aged Bishop, 
which the credulity of the times deified, and con- 
verted into the local god of the kingdom and diocese 
of Bernicia. Mr. Raine, in his exceedingly curious and 
interesting account of the " Opening of the Tomb of 
Saint Cuthbert in the Cathedral of Durham in 1827," 
has started the opinion, that the flight of the Monk* 





was by this route ; and, besides the churches of 
Elsdon, Ilaydon Bridge, and Beltingham, which are 
dedicated to St. Cuthbert, as he supposes, from their 
sites being resting-places of thfc remains of that 
Saint, a large pedestal of a cross, still remaining by 
the side of Headshope Bam, on the way between 
Halystone and Elsdon, and the church of Cross-au- 
set, three miles to the south of Elsdon, may be 
pointed out as probable memorials of events occur- 
ring during the same flight from the See of Lindis- 

This Well is now called Ovr Lady's WeU, no 
doubt from the little convent of Halystone being 
dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. No custom or 
tradition lingering in the neighbourhood, however, 
points it out as being resorted to at the Feasts of the 
Nativity, and of St. John the Baptist, at the summer 
solstice, or at any other season, as a place of religious 
festivity ; but it is still holden in great veneration by 
the people of the neighbourhood : and Mr. Farquhar, 
the proprietor of the place, in 1780, built a wall of 
ashlar-work around the brim of the fountain, and 
made a walk round its margin, which he sheltered 
with a plantation of forest-trees, and then defended 
the whole with a quickset-hedge. The statue in its 
centre was brought by the same gentleman from 
Alnwick, where it was carved by the artist employed 
by the Duke of Northumberland to make the figures 
on the battlements of the castle there, and among 
the ruins of Huln Abbey. The water of this Well is 
exceedingly copious, and so bright and clear, that 
every grain of the green and white sand which forms 
its bottom, may be distinctly seen. The nunnery 
here, portions of which still appear in the Millhouse, 
and in other buildings of the village of Halystone, 
was founded by one of the great family of Umfre- 
ville ; and was the only monastical institution which 
that race of warriors established in their principality 
of Redesdale, within which the ville of Halystone was 
situated. J. H. 



Or the various modes of burial which have prevailed 
in the world, inhumation, or placing the body under 
the surface of the ground, seems to be the most an- 
cient. It probably suggested itself naturally, as the 
most simple and readiest method of disposing of the 
dead as soon as decomposition began to take place. 
The custom of burying families in the same place 
seems also to have been a natural rcsidt of the 
feelings of attachment to our parents and relatives 
implanted by Providence, and of the obscure and 
indefinite ideas entertained in remote ages of the 
nature of the soul, a resurrection, and a future state. 
It is to be remarked, that as early as the time of 
Abraham, the custom of family burial-places was 
already well established, as appears by Gen. xxiii. 6. 
" Thou art a mighty prince among us : in the choice 
of our sepulchres bury thy dead: none of us shall 
withhold from thee his sepulchre, but that thou 
mayest bury th> dead." And the simple and affecting 
words of Jacob, many years later, are sufficiently 
explanatory of the motives which have ever since 
influenced mankind, and which will probably continue 
to preserve this ancient custom, at least, to a certain 
extent, for ages to come. " Bury me with my fathers, 
in the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite. 
•  » » » There they buried Abraham and 
Sarah his >rife, there they buried Isaac and Rebekah 
his wife, and there I buried Leah," Gen. xlix. From 

numerous passages in the Old Testament and in 
profane history, it is evident that the greatest im 
portance was attached to this ceremtmy, and that its 
deprivation was supposed to be accompanied with 
disgrace. The Greeks and Romans thought that 
the soul never enjoyed rest or happiness unless the 
body was burnt or interred. Tobit went about 
burying the dead bodies of his murdered countrymen 
at the hazard of his life; more than one of the 
early Greek tragedies (particularly the Antigone of 
Sophocles) derive their whole interest from a contest 
for the right of burial ; and the Athenians, at the 
most flourishing period of their civilization, made 
the neglect to bury the bodies of their fellow-citizens 
who had fallen in a naval battle, a pretence to execute 
all the chief commanders present on the occasion ; 
and David highly commended those who rescued the 
body of their king from the hands of their enemies, 
and paid it the last honours. (2 Sam. ii. 5.) 

The practice of burning dead bodies is of very 
remote antiquity, though not so ancient as that of 
burying. It is difficult satisfactorily to account for 
the origin of this custom. Possibly it was con- 
nected with that of burnt offerings; and those who 
first practised it, may have thought that they were 
disposing of the dead in the way most acceptable to 
that Being, who they knew had commanded them to 
bum the bodies of animals in his honour. The body 
of Saul was burnt, and his bones buried ; and it is 
to be observed, that this, the first instance of the 
rite being practised among the Jews, did not occur 
until they had, as we know, imbibed many of the 
habits and manners, and not a few of the religious 
superstitions, of the neighbouring idolaters. Burning 
is still practised throughout India, in Japan, Tartary, 
Siam, and in other parts of the East, and, formerly, 
prevailed in the northern countries of Europe. It 
existed very early amongst the Greeks and Romans, 
but by no means excluded simple burial. Some 
barbarous nations exposed the bodies of their dead 
without burial or burning. This was the case 
amongst the ancient Scythians, who attached them 
to trees ; and, at this day, the Otaheiteans, and other 
islanders of the Pacific Ocean, expose their dead 
under small open sheds, or on low stages, to the 
action of the atmosphere. This singular custom is 
by no means attributable to neglect ; the most con- 
stant attention is paid to the mouldering remains, 
but the fineness of the climate, joined to a natural 
reluctance to shut out for ever from their view the 
forms they had loved, revered, or admired, probably 
led the survivors to this expedient. It is believed to 
be now confined to these islands, where the progress 
of Christianity will soon cause its entire abolition. 

Having thus briefly noticed the different modes of 
disposing of bodies after death, we will proceed to 
consider the places of burial and burning, and con- 
clude with a short account of tho varieus ceremonies 
performed in honour of th. dead, in different 
countries and at different times. 

In ancient times, it does not appear that any thing 
was determined, particularly, with regard to the place 
of burying the dead. There were graves in the town 
and country, upon the highways, in gardens, and on 
mountains. The tombs of the Kings of Judah were 
in Jerusalem, and in the royal gardens. The sepulchre 
which Joseph of Arimathea had provided for him- 
self, and wherein he placed our Saviour's body, was 
in his garden ; that of Rachel was upon the highway 
from Jerusalem to Bethlehem ; the Kings of Israel 
had their burying-places iu Samaria ; Samuel and 
Joab were interred in their own houses ; Moses, 
Aaron, Eleazar, and Joshua, in mountains; Deboral 



IJanuar* 18, 

under a tree ; Manasseh and Anion in the garden 
of Uzza. Amongst the Greeks and Romans the 
custom seems to have been as various ; and the 
neighbourhood of their temples does not seem, by 
any means, to have been a favourite spot. The 
Jews, Greeks, and Romans, always buried their 
dead without the city walls ; it was considered a very 
high privilege to bury within tlie walls ; the vestal 
virgins, and some few noble families amongst the 
Romans, were thus buried. They had both private 
and public burying-grounds in the neighbourhood of 
ine city. The Turkish burying-grounds are placed 
near the way-side, with the idea that passengers will 
pray for the soul of the deceased ; they are always, 
very neatly ornamented. Among the primitive 
Christians, burying in towns was not at first ■-■ustom- 
ary, but soon after churches were erected in this 
country, burials took place in the church-yards, 
probably about a. d. 800, and persons of rank and 
eminence were buried inside the churches. The 
reason for permitting this, given by Pope Gregory 
the Great, was, that the sight of the tombs of the 
dead might move the living to say prayers for their 
souls. The custom of burying in vaults, in chancels, 
and under the altars, was not introduced for nearly 
200 years after that of burying in churches ; the 
first instance in England occurred about a. d. 1075, 
when Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, rebuilt 
the cathedral there. The Egyptians generally buried 
in caves. The Hindoos have no appointed places, 
generally throwing the remains, after burning, into 
the Ganges. The Guebres, descendants of the 
ancient Persians, and the Parsees in the East Indies, 
supposed to have a common origin, expose their 
dead in open towers, to be devoured by birds of prey, 
which the earliest histories mention to have been the 
custom of their ancestors 

We will now consider the different ceremonies with 
which burial was, and is, accompanied among diflfe- 
rent nations and religious sects. 

The Jews seem to adhere as closely as possible to 
their ancient funeral ceremonies. All who are 
present when a person has just expired, still tear 
their clothes. The dead body is then placed on a 
sheet spread on the floor, with the thumb turned 
inward to the hand, and a wax-taper burning at the 
head or feet. The deceased is washed, and a clean 
shirt put on, and over the shirt a garment of fine 
linen, which he wore on the day of solemn expiation ; 
then his taled, which is a piece of square cloth with 
tufts ; lastly, a white cap is put on his head, and the 
coffin-sheet. The relatives meet to accompany it to 
the grave. In ancient times they had women hired 
to cry, and persons who played mournfully on instru- 
ments. At the place of burial, the coffin is set down 
on the ground ; then, if the deceased was a person of 
rank, a speech is made in his honour, after which 
they walk ten times about the grave, repeating a 
prayer beginning " God is the rock, his way is 
perfect, &c. " Deut. xxxii. 4. The body is lowered 
into the grave, the nearest relations throw in earth, 
and the grave is filled. When they depart, they 
walk backwards, and pulling up some grass three 
several times, they throw it behind their backs, 
repeating, " They shall flourish like the grass of the 
earth." Ps. Ixxii. 16. 

The ancient Greeks were very ceremonious in the 
disposal of their dead, but the customs varied in the 
different states. The bodies of persons of rank were 
either burned or buried, and had frequently beautiful 
monunu^nts erected to them. The earliest specimens 
of inscriptions on monuments, are found in Grecian 
history ; and they seem first to have introduced the 

custom of giving great men splendid funerals at the 
public expense. One of Solon's laws is directed against 
the extravagant expense of funerals, at which dirges 
were sung by regularly- trained chorusses, and splendid 
exhibitions of games often given. We have a curious 
account of the honours paid by Pericles to those who 
had fallen in battle, in the service of their country. 
The bodies were exposed in cypress-wood coffins, 
placed beneath a large tent, where their relatives 
mourned over them, and strewed flowers and herbs. 
Three days afterwards, being placed on cars, with 
one empty for those whose bodies were missing, they 
were carried to the place of interment in procession 
where games were performed, an oration made in 
their honour, and monuments erected to their 
memory, with their names, ages, and the place at 
which they fell, inscribed on them. 

Among the Romans, persons of rank lay in state 
after death, with a small coin placed in the mouth, to 
pay Charon their passage over the Styx. Private 
funerals were generally at night, which was, in the 
early times of Rome, the case with all funerals. 
Public funerals were conducted with great state ; a 
person called Designator, (whose office corresponded 
with that of our undertaker,) with lictors in black, 
marshalled the procession, which was preceded by 
musicians, and women hired to lament and sing, with 
buffoons, one of whom (Archemimus, or the chief 
mimic,) imitated the deceased, and composed of per- 
sons carrying the busts of his ancestors, the spoils 
and rewards gained in war, the family next behind 
the corpse, troops with inverted arms, magistrates, 
Ike. Sometimes it stopped in the Forum, where a 
funeral oration was spoken. It was afterwards burnt, 
the relations lighting the pyre ; the bones were care- 
fully collected, and placed in an urn, which was 
deposited in the sepulchre. In the urn was placed a 
small phial, supposed to contain tears, and called a 
lacrymatory. This custom was not confined to the 
Romans, as we learn from the passage in the Psalms, 
relating to this subject, " Put my tears into thy bot- 
tle;" Ps. Ivi. 8. Flowers were used to adorn the 
bier, and also the tomb, when the body was interred. 
Sacrifices and ceremonies for purification were per- 
formed, and a lamp frequently kept burning. 

Amongst the Hindoos, the dying are carried into 
the open air, and sprinkled with water from the 
Ganges, when it can be obtained ; bits of coral and 
gold are placed in the mouth, nostrils, eyes, and ears ; 
a cloth is thrown over the body, which, if in a town, 
is carried out by a particular gate, according to the 
CASTB of the deceased, to the neighbourhood of a 
river, where it is burnt, the relatives lighting the 
pile, and pouring water from the river, from the 
joined palms of their hands ; they then sit down, 
and recite moral senteTices. Offerings are made 
for ten days, at the end of which the nearest 
kinsman buries the bones, which are afterwards 
taken up, and thrown into the sacred stream 
of the Changes. The spot where it was burned is 
frequently commemorated by planting trees, erecting 
a mound, or making a tank or pond. The custom of 
the Hindoo widows burning themselves with the 
bodies of tlieir husbands cannot at present be dis- 
cussed : suffice it to say, that similar customs have 
prevailed amongst pagan nations, and are by no 
means rare at the present day, particularly amongst 
the African tribes, though it seems doubtful whether 
it is so completely voluntary, as it is said to be 
amongst the Hindoos. The same custom prevailed 
as early as Alexander the Great's expedition. It 
IS now on the decline in India, and is forbidden by 
the Government in the British territories. 

i83l 1 



Tlie Mahometans inter their dead in a very few 
hours after life has been extinct ; their predestinarian 
opinions prevent their showing much grief, or using 
much ceremony on these occasions. Passages from 
the Koran are repeated on the way to the burial- 
ground, and as the carrying a dead body is by them 
supposed to expiate a deadly sin, all who meet the pro- 
cession generally assist in it. The body is interred 
lying on the right side, and turned towards Mecca. The 
Imaum, or priest, repeats a prayer, and calls the de- 
ceased three times by his name, and mentions that of 
his mother. This custom was sometimes observed 
amongst the Romans ; and in Ireland the female 
■mourners frequently interrogate the deceased, as to 
why he left them, whether he had not all that he 
wanted, &c. But little lamentation occurs at the 
Mahometan funerals, though the relatives frequently 
visit the grave, strew flowers, and plant shrubs and 
trees near it. Large burying-grounds, outside the 
walls of Mahometan cities, have thus a very neat 

The Chinese spare no expense in order to have a 
splendid funeral, for which they make preparations 
long before death, and the lands of the deceased are 
frequently sold in order to provide ample funds for 
the purpose. Large sums are laid out by the living 
on their coffins, which are often presented to parents 
or relatives during their lives. They are often 
adorned with painting, sculpture, and inscriptions. 
The body lies in state, in several suits of the best 
clothes, with provisions for the next world. All 
visiters make obeisance to the corpse and treat it 
with great respect, freijoently complimenting the 
family on the splendour of the coffin. At all the 
family meals, food is offered to the corpse. The priests 
are consulted as to the choice of a place of inter- 
ment, to which much importance is attached, and 
the eldest son precedes the body when carried to the 
grave, and pretends to interrupt its passage. 

The Indians of North and South America generally 
carry the bones of their dead (after the flesh has 
decomposed or been removed), wrapt in deer skins or 
hides, to the places where their ancestors may have 
been interred; frequently, from their wandering 
habits, at enormous distances. Many tribes destroy 
all that belonged to the dead, and never mention or 
allude to them. 

The funerals of the African tribes are in general 
eplendid. Those of the chiefs and great men are 
accompanied by human sacrifices to a horrible 
amount. Their wives, slaves, captives, and horses, 
are slain; their arms, clothing, and treasures, are 
buried with them. These horrible sacrifices are 
often made by survivors to pacify the shades of their 

It were needless to enumerate the ceremonies per- 
formed at funerals in this country, with which most 
of us are but too well acquainted. In Ireland, 
women are still hired to howl and cry at the head of 
the procession ; and in Wales, graves are strewed or 
planted with flowers. The funeral feast, or %Dake, is, 
in the former country, but too often desecrated by 
riot and drunkenness. 

It is curious to observe, how much the notions 
entertained by different nations of the future state, 
have influenced their funeral ceremonies. The 
more savage tribes, and nations more completely 
Pagan, conceiving the next world to bear a very 
intimate resemblance with the present, inter the 
arms, food, and treasures of the dead; sacrifice their 
women, horses, and slaves, which they imagine will 
be useful in another state. The ancient Greeks and 
Romans, whose Paganism was far less gross, retained 

a few forms of this kind (such as placing the coin 
in the mouth, from habit and superstition), but th?ir 
public spirit and military character led them to the 
employment of such ceremonies, as might flatter the 
vanity and stimulate the exertions of the living, 
rather than to any which might have been imagined 
to affect the future state of the deceased. The 
simplicity of the earlier Christian funerals was only 
obliterated by the love of display in all religious 
ceremonies which was encouraged by the Romish 
church, and the great an.Kiety for the performance of 
masses for the dead, shows, in Catholic countries, the 
importance attached to them with regard to the future 
state of the soul. 

Quantity of Blood ii>f Animals. Those who have 

hot considered the subject, must be suprised at the quantity 
of blood which is propelled through the heart of any 
moderately-sized animal in the course of twenty-four 
hours. In man, the quantity of blood existing in the body 
at any given moment, is probably from thirty to forty pints. 
Of these an ounce and a half, or about three table 
spoonfuls, are sent out at every stroke ; which multiplied 
into seventy-five (the average rate of the pulse) give eleven 
hundred and twenty-five ounces, or seven pints in a minute ; 
i. e., four hundred and twenty pints, or two hundred and 
fifty-five gallons in an hour ; and twelve hundi-ed and sixty 
gallons, i. e. nearly twenty-four hogsheads in a day. Now 
if we recollect that the whale is said to send out from his 
heart, at each stroke, fifteen gallons, the imagination is 
overwhelmed with the aggregate of the quantity that must 
pass through the heart of that Leviathan of the deep in 
twenty-four hours. It is a general law, that the pulse of 
the larger animals is slower than that of the smaller ; but 
even if we put the pulse of the whale as low as twenty in 
a minute, the quantity circulated through the heart, calcu- 
lated at fifteen gallons for each pulsation, will be four 
hundred and thirty-two thousand gallons, equal to eight 
thousand hogsheads, in twenty-four hours. The consi- 
deration of this amazing quantity is, however, a subject of 
mere empty wonder, if not accompanied with the reflection, 
that, in order to produce the aggregate amount, the heart 
is kept in constant motion ; and that, in fact, it is incessantly 
beating, as it is termed, or throwing out the blood in the 
arteries, from the first period of our existence to the 
moment of our death, without any sensation of fatigue; or 
even without our being conscious of the process, except 
it be interrupted by corporal or mental agitation. 

Thk earth on whicn we tread, was evidently intended by 
the Creator to support man and other animals, along with 
their habitations, and to furnish those vegetable productions 
which are necessary for their subsistence; and, accordingly, 
he has given it that exact degree of consistency, which is 
requisite for these purposes. Were it much harder than it 
now is ; were it, for example, as dense as a rock, it would be 
incapable of cultivation, and vegetables could not be pro- 
duced from its surface. Were it softer, it would bo insuf- 
ficient to support us, and we should sink at every step, like 
a person walking in a quagmire. The exact adjustment 
of the solid parts of our globe, to the nature and necessities 
of the beings which inhabit it, is an instance of divine 
wisdom. Dick. 

Can any man charge God, that he hath not given him 
enough to make his life happy? No, doubtless; for nature 
is content with a little : and yet, you shall hardly meet 
with a man that complains not of some want, even when he 
seems to be provided with all things ; and thus, when we 
might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. 
IzAAK Walton. 

Manners are of more importance than laws. Upon 
them, in a great measure, the laws depend. The law 
fouches us but here and there, now and then. Manners 
are what vex or soothe, corrupt or purify, exalt or debase, 
barbarize or refine us, by a constant, steady, uniform, in- 
sensible operation, like that of the air we breathe in. They 
give their whole form and colour to our lives. According to 
their quality, they aid morals, they supply them, or they 
totally destroy them. Burkk. 



fJANUARY iS, 1834. 


III. Tuisco. 

The next unto the idols after the two most apparent 
p'.unets was the idol of Tuisco, the most ancient and pecu- 
liar god of all the (Jermans : here described in his gar- 
meat of a skin, according to the most ancient manner of 
the Germans' clothing. 

" This Tuisco was the first and chiefest man of name 
among the Germans, after whom they do call themselves 
&ll)t^I)ClI, that is. Duytsh people: and the day which yet 
among us retaineth the name of Tuesday was especially 
dedicated to the adoration and servicie of this idol. " — 

The Germans regarded this Tuisco, or Tuisto, as 
the founder of their nation. He is also said to have 
given them laws, and to have gained so high a degree 
of honour among that rude people, that after death 
they placed him among their gods ; and, as one of 
the chief ceremonies of his worship, sang songs to 
his praise. Who or what Tuisco was, we have no 
means of knowing ; but the mysterious and important 
tone in which Tacitus mentions his pedigree is rather 
whimsical; " In all songs and ballads (the only 
memorials of antiquity amongst the Germans) the 
god Tu isTO, who was born of the earth, and Mannus 
his son, are celebrated as the founders of their race." 
Thus the word Man is supposed to have been 
changed by the Roman historian into Mannus, just 
as Earth was into Hertha. Of these we like the 
Saxon names far better than the Latin which have 
been corrupted from them : and we may here 
state, once for all, that we think the good old Saxon 
(now really English) words have more muscle than 
most other words ; and that a sentence.formed chiefly, 
if not wholly, of them, has more strcngtli and 
meaning than it would have when encumbered by 
terms of Greek and Latin growth. 

But to return to the subject of the engraving. It 
was agreeable to the pride of a bold and ignorant 

people, who were making their way in the w orld, 
to fancy the earth itself the parent of their founder. 
Without waiting to show the folly of this idea, we 
will proceed, as a matter of curious but useful 
inquiry, to consider who the Anglo-Saxons, on their 
first finding a footing in this country, really were. 

The Saxons, a German people, had ext€nded 
themselves from the Elbe to the Rhine ; and their 
fierce and warlike conduct had long alarmed the 
western regions of Europe. When the Romans 
quitted Britain, and, leaving it defenceless, returned 
to their own land, in consequence of hostile attacks 
at home, the Saxons flocked hither, being called in as 
friends and allies, against the Picts and Scots. 
Thus, during the fifth and sixth centuries after the 
Christian era, England continued to be peopled with 
Saxons : but instead of friends they soon became 
masters, and the ancient inhabitants, and the de- 
scendants of the Roman settlers, soon disappeared ; 
and the Saxon tongue, Saxon laws, Saxon government, 
and manners, gradually overspread the land. This 
people brought much tliat was good with them ; and 
it has been truly said, that the " British constitution 
came out of the woods of Germany." But th? 
converted Saxons must have remembered the idola- 
trous practices of their ancestors with too much 
disgust, to record them for the notice of after-ages. 

It would be very desirable to give a complete portrait 
of the Anglo-Saxons, in their religion and customs, 
during their uncivilized state. On this subject, how- 
ever, curiosity must expect to be disappointed, as we 
can only judge by those slight sketches which are 
scattered here and there, in works which time has 

The same degree of uncertainty exists respecting 
the ancestors of this extraordinary race ; but the best 
and most probable opinion seems to be, that they 
were Scythian tribes, who came out of Asia, and 
made their appearance in Europe, in the seventh or 
eighth century before the Christian period. They 
are mentioned by Homer and Herodotus. Besides 
their situation, and other circumstances which have 
been brought together to strengthen this theory, the 
Scythians had certain customs exceedingly like those 
that prevailed among the Germans. They had 
seven deities; one of a warlike character, to whom 
they sacrificed every year, horses, and sheep, and 
some of their prisoners. Their bows and arrows 
were famous. In battle, they drank the blciod of the 
first enemy they mastered. They scalped their foe, 
and offered his head to their king ; and they made 
drinking-cups of the skulls of their greatest enemies 
or conquered friends. They had diviners, who used 
rods of willow for prophesying. Homer praises 
their honesty, and Strabo mentions their indifference 
about money and trade. Thus the Scythians, and 
Geta, (a nation of Scythians, whence some have de- 
rived the word Goths,) may be accounted the early 
ancestors of our Anglo-Saxon fathers. This is going 
back further, we suspect, than Tuisco, though not 
quite so far as the Earth, for the parent of the 

Industry anothkr^Wprd for Happiness. — "The old 
man near the Hague, thaf Setved^my house from his dairy, 
grew so rich that he gave it over; bought a house, and 
furnished it at the Hague, resolving to live at ease the rest 
of his life; giew so weary of being idle, he sold it, and 
returned again io his dairy." Sir W. Templb. 




pKicK Sixpence, and 
%eld by aU BouknfUcts and N«w»veudeM in th« KlUiic'cm. 


N9 100. 


25™, 18.34. 

* Prick 
i One Penny. 





Knaresborouoh, in the lower divLsion of the wa 
pentakc of Claro, in the libertie.. of St. Peter TnJ 
W.boro„gh is .seven miles from Boronghbridge 
and e,«^.f..„ „„jes west of York, pleasantly situated 

on a cliff above the river Nid, whieh runs at the 
bottom of a deep dell. The Market-place is spacious • 
the sale of corn considerable ; great quantities being 
brought manv miles eastward, to supply a barren 



[January 25, 

tract extending far west. The manufacture of coarse 
linen has long flourished here, and the collieries, 
near Leeds, supply the place with coals. 

It first sent members to ParUamont in the first 
of Queen Mary, 1553, and has ever since returned 
two representatives. Its population, at the last cen- 
svis, was 5296. 

The Castle occupied a most elevated situation, and, 
on the accessible side, was defended by a vast fosse, 
with strong works on the outside; the scattered rums 
which still remain show it to have been a fortress 
of great extent. Among the ruins are part of the 
towers, and some semi-round buttresses ; but the 
most perfect portion now remaining, is that repre- 
sented in the engraving. This Castle was founded 
by Serlo de Burgh, who came into England with 
the Conqueror, and he was succeeded in his pos- 
session by Eustace Fitz-John, the great favourite 
of Henry the First. It afterwards came into pos- 
session of the crown, for it seems that King John 
granted it to -William de Estoteville, for the ser- 
vices of the three knight's fees. In the succeeding 
reign, it was bestowed on the great justiciary, Hubert 
de Burgh, on payment of 100/. per annum into the 
Exchequer. In the reign of Edward the Second, it 
was in the family of the Vaux, or de Vallibus, but 
bestowed by that prince on his favourite. Piers 
Gaveston, whom he created Earl of Cornwall. On 
his death it reverted to the Crown, and continued 
attached thereto till 1371, when the castle, manor, 
and honour of Knaresborough, were granted by 
Edward the Third to his fourth son, John of Gaunt, 
Duke of Lancaster. 

In 1170, the four knights who murdered Thomas 
k Becket, took refuge here, where they remained 
prisoners many months, but were some time after 
pardoned, on condition of their performing a pil- 
grimage to Jerusalem. After the base treachery which 
Richard the Second experienced from the Earl of 
Northumberland, and his gallant son Hotspur Percy, 
that unfortunate prince was kept a close prisoner 
here, in an apartment still called the King's Chamber, 
till he was removed to Pontefract Castle, and there 
murdered by order of Henry the Fourth. In 1616, 
James the First granted this Castle to his son 

It was a strong fortress during the Civil Wars, and 
made great resistance against the Parliamentary 
forces. After the battle of Marston Moor, the 
townsmen most gallantly defended it against Lord 
Fairfax, and, though at last compelled to surrender, 
it was on the most honourable terms that the garrison 
laid down their arms. Not long after this, it was, 
with many other castles, by order of the House 
of Commons, rendered untenable. The site of the 
castle, commands a most beautiful view of the river, 
church, part of the town, Coghill Hall, dropping- 
well, bridge, woods, &c. The keep was large, and 
consisted of three stories. From an east view of it, 
the dismantled towers, and dilapidated arches, are 
finely picturesque ; but the whole is fast falling into 
decay. Near the centre, in a part of the ruins, are 
the court-house and prison for the liberty of the forest 
of Knaresborough. 

J. R. 


"What between the sparrows and the parson, I see 
there will be no corn left for me!" said a grumbling 
old farmer, as he leaned over the gate to view his 
field of wheat, now nearly ready for the sickle. 
But I am not going to write an essay on tithes, or to 
enter upon a defence of the parsons, for taking what 
is their just and undoubted property. My business 
at present is with the sparrows. 

These birds are accused of eating the com, and 
destroying the fruit and the vegetables ; and accord- 
ingly a reward of so much per dozen, for their 
heads, is offered and paid by the churchwardens 
in many parishes. The accusation is perfectly just; 
the sparrows do eat the corn, and commit depre- 
dations in the garden and orchard. I do not mean 
to deny that. All that I contend for, is, that they 
also do some good, and make ample compensation 
for the injury they commit, by the beneficial services 
they perform for us. They are the destroyers of 
immense numbers of insects, which would multiply 
to a prodigious and alarming extent, if their increase 
were not checked by these and other birds which 
prey upon them. 

It has been calculated, from actual observation by an 
intelligent naturalist (see Introduction to Bewick's 
History of Birds), that " a single pair of sparrows, 
during the time they are feeding their young, will 
destroy about four thousand caterpillars weekly, 
they likewise feed their young with butterflies and 
other winged insects, each of which, if not destroyed 
in this manner, would be productive of several hun- 
dreds of caterpillars." 

There are people to be found, who will not scruple 
sometimes to murmur against Providence, and to 
fancy, that it would have been much better for the 
world, if this or that animal, which they in their 
ignorance are pleased to consider altogether useless, 
or even noxioiis, had never been created. So, pro- 
bably, thought our friend the farmer, when he saw 
the sparrows feeding on his wheat. Now, this is, in 
effect, "charging God foolishly," and presuming, 
that we ourselves know better, and could have better 
ordered the world, than the all- wise Creator himself, 
who has pronounced of all His works, that they 
" were good." It seems to have been an object in the 
Divine mind, to create a vast multiplicity of different 
living beings. Hence the earth, the water, and the aip, 
are all furnished with a countless variety of animals. 

" All nature teems with life." 

To prize every thing accordmg to its real use, ought to be 
the aim of a rational being. There are few things which 
can much conduce to happiness, and, therefore, few things 
to be srdently desired. He that looks upon the business 
and bustle of the world, with the philosophy with which 
Socrates sur\eyed the fair at Athens, will turn away at 
last with his exclamation : " How many thmgs are here 
which I do not want." — Dr. Johnso.x 

And much good, no doubt, upon the whole, results 
to man, and in many ways, from such a scheme of 
things as this, which we find around us. But then, 
to go on as it ought to do, without disturbing the 
economy of nature, every thing must be kept within 
its proper limits — nothing either diminished or in- 
creased out of due proportion. If, for example, the 
sparrows (which are a most prolific race), had no 
enemies to keep down their numbers, but were to 
multiply a thousand fold, they would, indeed, become 
a pest and a scourge, by destroying the greater part 
of our corn and fruits. If, on the other hand, the 
race were to be utterly destroyed, and there were no 
sparrows or other like birds left, then the caterpillars 
and insects would increase upon us, and would injure 
us to an equal extent, in another way. But as things 
now are, the proper balance is preserved, one animal 
is a check against the over-increase of another; the 
sparrows prey upon the caterpillars, and other 
animals prey upon the sparrows. Thus the machine 
of nature is kept in proper order — works weU, and 
as it was meant to do. 




Here then is a palpable case ; at least, we can 
understand the good effected by the sparrows clearly 
enough, when it is once pointed out to us. No 
doubt, if we were thoroughly acquainted with the 
habits and manners of other animals, we should be 
able to discover some corresponding benefits result- 
ing from them also. The lesson to be learned, then, 
L is no less than this ; not rashly to infer, even of the 
meanest creature which comes from the hand of God, 
' that it was created for no good end, or serves no good 
purpose in the general plan of Providence. When 
we come to search, and to inquire, and take time to 
examine things a little below the surface, we find that 
we are able to see the use of some animals, which 
are almost universally accounted useless or pernicious. 
Judging, therefore, of like things by like, we may 
■well believe as much in the case of others, whose 
natural history is nearly, or altogether, unknown to 
U.S, remembering always, that " manifold" as are 
" the works of God," in wisdom has He made them all. 
The following remarks relating to the sparrow, 
extracted from the Journal of a Naturalist, are so 
just and beautiful, that they cannot but be read 
with pleasure and advantage. g ^ 

" We have no bird, I believe, more generally known, 
thought of, or mentioned with greater indifference, per- 
haps contempt, than tlie common sparrow (fringilla domcs- 
tica), ' that sitteth alone on (he house-top ;" yet it is an 
animal that nature seems to have endowed with peculiar 
characteristics, having ordained for it a very marked pro- 
vision, manifested in its increase and maintenance, not- 
withstanding the hostile attacks to which it is exposed. A 
dispensation that exists throughout creation is brought 
more immediately to our notice by the domestic habits of 
this bird. The natural tendency that the sparrow has to 
increase will often enable one pair of birds to bring up 
fourteen or more young ones in the season They build 
in places of perfect security from the plunder of larger 
birds and vermin. Their art and ingenuity in cominonly 
attaching their nests beneath that of the rook, high in the 
elm, a bird, whose habits are perfectly dissimilar, and 
with which they have no association whatever, making use 
of their structure only for a defen(^e to which no other bird 
resorts, manifest their anxiety and contrivance for the 
safety of their broods. Wth peculiar perseverance and 
boldness, they forage and provide for themselves and their 
offspring ; will filch grain from the trough of the pig, or 
contend for its food with the gigantic turkey ; and, if scared 
away, their fears are those of a moment, as they quickly 
return to their plunder ; and they roost protected from all 
the injuries of weather. These circumstances tend greatly 
to increase the race, and in some seasons their numbers in 
our corn-fields, towards autumn, are prodigious ; and did 
not events counteract the increase of this army of plun- 
derers, the larger portion of our bread-corn would bo con- 
sumed by them. But their reduction is as rapidly accom- 
plished as their increase, their love of association bringing 
upon them a destruction, which a contrary habit would not 
tempt. Tliey roost in troops in our ricks, in the Wy on the 
wall, &c., and are captured by the net : they cluster on 
the bush, or crowd on the chaff by the barn-door, and are 
shot by dozens at a time ; or will rush in numbers, one 
following another, into the trap. These and various other 
engines of destruction so reduce ihom in tlie winter season, 
that the swarms of autumn gradually diminish, till their 
numbers, in spring, are in no way remarkable. I have 
called them plunderers, and tl cy arc so ; they are bene- 
factors, likewise, seeming to be appointed by nature as 
one of the agents for keeping from undue increase another 
nice of creatures, and by their prolificacy they accomplish 
it. In spring and the early part of the summer, before 
the corn becomes ripe, they are insectivorous, and their con- 
gtanlly-increasing families recjuire an unceasing supply of 
food. We see them every minute of the day in continual 
progress, flying from the nest for a supply, and returning, 
on rapid wing, with a grub, a caterpillar, or some reptile ; 
and the numbers captured by them in the course of these 
travels are incredibly numerous, keeping under the increase 
of these races, and making ample restitution for their 
plunderingB and tbefts. When the insect race becomes 

scarce, the corn and seeds of vanous kinds are ready, their 
appetite changes, and they feed on these with undi 
minished enjoyment. 

" We have scarcely another bird, the appetite of vvhicn 
is so accommodating in all respects as that of the house 
sparrow. It is, I believe, the only bird that is a voluntary 
inhabitant with man, lives in his society and is his con- 
stant attendant, following him wherever he fixes his resi- 
dence. It becomes immediately an inhabitant of the new 
farm-house, in a lonely place or recent enclosure, or even 
in an island ; will accompany him into the crowded city, 
and build and feed there in content, unmindful of the 
noise, the smoke of the fiirnace, or the steam-engine, 
where even the swallow and the martin, that flock around 
him in the country, are scared by the tumult, and leave 
him : but the sparrow, though begrimed with soot, does 
not forsake him ; feeds on his food — rice, potatoes, or almost 
any other extraneous substance he may find in the street ; 
looks to him for his support, and is maintained almost 
entirely by the industry and providence of man. It is not 
known in a solitary and independent state." 

Even the best things, ill used, become evils, and conlraiily, 
the worst things, used well, prove good. A good tongue 
used to deceit; a good wit, used to defend error; a strong 
arm to murder; authority to oppress; a good profession to 
dissemble ; are all evil. Even God's own word is the sword 
o''the spirit, which, if it kill not our vices, kills our souls. 
Contrariwise, (as poisons are used to wholesome medicine,) 
afflictions and sins, by a good use, prove so gainful as 
nothing more. Words are as they are taken, and things 
are as they are used. There are even cursed blessings. 
Bishop Hall. 

The Arabians recommended patience by the following pro- 
verb : " Be patient, and the mulberry-leaf will becom'; 

" If," said John Hemes, " misfortunes nave befallen you 
by your own misconduct, live, and be wiser for the future. 
If they have befallen you by the fault of others, live ; you 
have nothing wherewith to reproach yourself. If your cha- 
racter be unjustly attacked, live; time wiH remove the 
aspersion. If you have spiteful enemies, live, and disap- 
point their malevolence. If you have kind and faithful 
friends, (and kindred,) hve, to bless and protect them. If 
you hope for immortality, live, and prepare to enjoy it." 

Every man rejoices twice when he has a partner of his 
joy ; a friend shares ray sorrow and makes it but a moiety . 
biit he swells my joy and makes it double. For so two 
channels divide the river and lessen it into rivulets, and 
make it fordable, and apt tu be drunk up by the first revels 
of the Sirian star; but two torches do not divide but in- 
crease the flame; and, though my tears are the sooner dried 
up, when they run on my friends cheeks in the furrows of 
compassion, yet when my flame hath kindled his lamp, we 
unite the glories and make them radiant, like the golden 
candlesticks that burn before the throne of God, because 
they shine by numbers, by unions, and confederations of 
light and joy. Jeremy Taylor. 



No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end. 
Can forget the sweet .sound of the bells of Ostend ! 
Tlie Jay set in darkness, the wind it blew loud, 
And rung as it passed through each murmuring shroud 
My forehead was wet with the foam of the spray, 
My heart sigh'd in secret for those far away ; 
When slowly the morning advanced from the east, 
The toil and the noise of the tempest had ceased : 
The peal, from a land I ne'er saw, seemed to 5ay, 
" Let the stranger forget every sorrow to-day !" 

Yet the short-lived emotion was mingled with paui— 
1 thought of those eyes I should ne'er see again , 
I thought of the kiss, the last tiss which I gave. 
And a tear of regret fell unseen on the wave. 
1 thought of the schemes fond afl'ection had planned, 
Of the trees, of the towers, of my own native land. 
But still the sweet sounds, as they swelled to the air. 
Seemed tidings of pleasure, though mournful, to Ijear; 
And I never, till life and its shadows shall end, 
Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend I 

* W. L. Bowii*. 



[Januabt 2t, 


We have already given accounts of Cawnpore* and 
Agraf, two of those cities of India which are called 
Mofussil Stations, and are inhabited by our country- 
men ; we now proceed to draw attention to a third — 
Etawah, or, as it is sometimes written, Etaya : — and we 
are the more disposed to do so, not so much on ac- 
count of any thing very remarkable in the place itself, 
as because it gives us an opportunity for calling to 
mind some of the inconveniences to which many of our 
countrymen in India are exposed, whilst we at home 
reap the advantage of their presence in those distant 
regions. By considering their situation, we may, 
perhaps, be led also to set a higher value on the 
happy freedom from such inconveniences which we, 
who remain in this our native land, are allowed to 

A very large portion of the central part of India 
is remarkable for its high state of cultivation, and 
for its extraordinary fertility. With the exception. 
perhaps, of the country watered by the great river 
of China, it may be considered as the finest and 
most fruitful of any on the face of the earth. Al- 
most the whole of its immense surface forms one 
continued level plain of nearly unvarying richness, 
and over which majestic rivers pursue their slow and 
fertilizing course. 

Generally, throughotit that vast and extensive 
plain, the progress of cultivation has effectually 
rooted out the original and native productions of the 
land, and introduced in their place, plants and grains 
better suited for the support and use of man. 
Amongst these are such solid, rich, and profitable 
articles, as are produced by the strong heat of the 
sun acting upon a deep, fertile, and well-watered 
soil: as rice, for instance, the staff of life in the 
East; sugar, that luxury which is now so generally 
used; opium, which is there so highly prized; indigo, 
the most valuable substance employed in dyeing ; and 
in drier tracts, cotton, which chiefly clothes the in- 
habitants of the East. 

• Vol. II. p. 2J7. t Vol. III. p. 73. 

But, in spite of every human effort, some tracts 
are left uncultivated ; and in these, under the joint 
influence of the moisture from the rivers, and the 
intense beating of the sun upon the soil, nature, it 
we may so say, works so powerfully, as to baffle all 
attempts to bring them under the spade or the 
plough. She there, as it were, riots in unbounded 
luxuriance, and covers extensive regions with that 
dense, dark, and impenetrable mass of wild foliage 
and rank vegetation, crowded and twined together, 
which is called Jungle, and which opposes an almost 
impassable barrier, even to an army. Trees spreading 
their branches, like gigantic arms, on every side ; 
thorny and prickly shrubs, of every size and shape ; 
canes, shooting, in a few months, to the height of 
sixty feet; with the beautiful silky jungle-grass, which 
rises to between eight and ten feet, and in which 
those who enter it are in danger of being buried and 
lost; compose the chief materials of those wild 

And it is in the midst of one of these uninviting 
tracts that Etawah is situated. It stands upon the 
north-east side of the river Jumna, and is distant 
fifty-two miles from Agra, and ninety-six from 
Cawnpore. In the days of the Moghul power, the 
native city was a flourishing place, the abode of 
Omrahs and grandees belonging to the imperial 
court : but, with the downful of the Moslem dominion, 
it has sunk into insignificance, and possesses few, if 
any, attractions, excepting to the artist, who cannot 
fail to admire a splendid ghaut, or mountain-pass, 
{i. e. landing-place,) which is one of the finest oil 
the river Jumna, and several picturesque buildings, 
which, however, are now fast falling into decay. 
The military cantonments which are in the neigh- 
bourhood, are peculiarly desolate, and display, in 
full perfection, the dreary features of a jungle-station. 
Half a dozen inhabitable bungalows or villas lie 
scattered upon a wide sandy plain, which is nearly 
without trees of any kind ; and they are intermixed 
with the ruins of others, which were built for the 




accommodation of a larger garrison than is now 
considered necessary to secure our possession of the 
place. A single wing of Sepoys, as they are called, 
that is, native Indian soldiers, is deemed sufficient 
for the post. The few Europeans, who remain here 
for their appointed three years' service, have ample 
opportunity of learning how to exist on their own 

The bungalows of Etawah, though not quite in 
their primitive state, are of a very rude and rough 
description, and present but few comforts in the 
construction. But the chief annoyances to which 
this and other jungle-stations are exposed, arise from 
other sources than the character of the dwellings 
themselves. In large stations, which have been 
long inhabited by Europeans, the wilder tribes of 
animals, retreating to more desolate places, are rarely 
seen. Squirrels or rats, with an occasional snake or 
two, may form the population of the roof, and are 
comparatively quiet tenants. In the jungles, however, 
the intercourse between the native brute creation 
and their human neighbours, is of too close a nature 
to be very agreeable. If the doors are left open at 
night, on account of the heat, moveable lattices, 
ceLlledjaffrys, must be put in their place, to keep out 
the wolves and hyajnas, who then take the liberty of 
traversing the verandahs ; the gardens are the haunts 
of the porcupine, and panthers prowl in the ravines. 
Tlie chopper, or thatch of the bungalow, affords a 
commodious harbour for occupants of many kinds; 
wild cats; ghosaumps, a reptile of the lizard-tribe, as 
large as a sucking pig; with several others, take 
up their abode amidst the rafters, and make wild 
work with their battles and their pursuit of prey. 
These unwelcome lodgers are, indeed, divided from 
the human inhabitants of the house, by a cloth 
stretched across the top of each room, from wall to 
wall, which forms the ceiling; and, as long as it is 
preserved in good repair, it secures them from the 
actual intrusion of the tenants of the upper story. But 
the noise which the intruders create, especially during 
the night-time, is a sufficient annoyance, without any 
closer acquaintance with them. Sometimes this 
noise is beyond conception, and when it is considered, 
that all this is in addition to a concert, which, in 
those wild and desolate regions, usually takes place 
at night, — wherein the treble is sustained by crickets, 
whose lungs far exceed in power those of our hearths 
in Europe ; the bass is croaked forth by innumerable 
toads ; and the chorus is filled up by the bugle-horns 
of the musquito flies, and the gurgling accompani- 
ment of the musk-rats ; whilst it is not uncommon 
to be roused by the yeUs of a wandering troop of 
jackals, each apparently endeavouring to outshriek 
his neighbour, — we may easily believe, that a quiet 
night, difficult of attainment in all parts of India, is 
almost hopeless in the jungles. 

Yet, even amidst all these unpleasing circumstances, 
sleep may be won, and not wooed in vain. Habit 
may do much for man, in enabling Jiim to bear 
inconveniences. And fortunately the beds, as they 
are constructed and placed in India, afford a safe 
retreat from all these disagreeable invaders. The 
couch, or bed, occupies the centre of the floor, and is 
raised to a considerable height from the ground: 
whilst the musquito-curtains, which are tightly 
tucked in all round, though formed of the thinnest 
and most transparent material, cannot easily be 
penetrated from without; so that the wearied occu- 
pant may rest and sleep in sufficient security. 

Nor are these stations altogether without their 
peculiar advantages. The noisome broods, nurtured 
in the desolate places around Etawah, have not, it is 

true, yet been taught to fly from the abode of the 
European ; but, to counterbalance the annoyance 
which their presence occasions, the brighter and 
more beautiful inhabitants of the jungles fearlessly 
approach the lonely bungalow. In no other part of 
India, with the exception of the hill- districts, are 
more brilliant and interesting specimens of birds and 
insects to be seen. Here extremely small brown 
doves with pink breasts appear, amidst every variety 
of the common colour, whilst green pigeons, blue 
jays, crested wood-peckers, together with an infinite 
number of other richly-plumed birds, glowing in 
purple, scarlet, and yellow, flock around. The lover 
of natural history may here luxuriate in a most 
ample field for the pursuit of his studies, and need 
scarcely go beyond the gardens to find those feathered 
wonders which are described, though as yet but im- 
perfectly in books on the subject. Here the lovely 
little tailor-bird (see Saturday Magazine, Vol. I. p. 1 72) 
sews two leaves together, and swings, in his sweet- 
scented nest, from the bough of some low shrub. 
The fly-catcher, a very small and slender bird, of a 
bright-green hue, is also an inhabitant of these 
gardens, together with a most diminutive little bird, 
of a white and pale-brown plumage, with a tail com- 
posed of two long feathers, resembling the bird of 
Paradise. Nothing can be more beautiful than the 
effect produced by the brilliant colours of those birds 
which collect in large flocks; the ring-necked paro- 
quets in their evening flight, as the sun declineSj 
show rich masses of the green; and the byahs, or 
crested-sparrows, whose breasts are of the brightest 
yellow, look like clouds of gold as they float along ; 
and numbers of water-birds feed on the banks of the 
neighbouring Jumna. 

Such situations as Etawah are remarkable for the 
splendid and beautiful flowers which there abound in 
the utmost luxuriance. The oleanders, which are 
common all over India, are the pride of the jungles, 
spreading into large shrubs, and sending forth their 
delicious perfume from clusters of pink and white 
blossoms. The baubool also breathes from its bells 
of gold, a scent of the most exquisite nature, for 
the delicacy of which it is highly prized by Euro- 
peans, above the jasmine and other flowers there of 
a too-powerful perfume. The sensitive-plant grows in 
great abundance in the gardens of Etawah, spreading 
itself over whole borders ; and so deserving is it of its 
name, that the touch of a single leaf will occasion 
all those of a whole parterre to close and shrink away, 
nor will it recover itself again till several hours after- 
wards. Equally curious, and less known, is the 
property of another beautiful inhabitant of these 
regions ; the tree is one of a considerable growth, 
and its flowers are nearly of the size of the poeony ; 
these flowers blow in the morning, and are then of 
the purest white ; they then gradually change, 
passing through every shade of red, until, as the 
evening advances, they become of a deep crimson, 
and falling off at night, are renewed in their bridal 
attire the following day ; when gathered and placed 
in a vase, they display the same changes, and it is 
amusing to watch them, from their first faint tinge 
deepening into darker and darker hues. 

But, in addition to this, around every shrub, butter- 
flies, of various tints, sport and flutter, each species 
choosing some particular blossoms, so that one plant 
will be surrounded by a host of blue-winged visitants, 
whilst the next is radiant with amber or scarlet. 
Immense winged grasshoppers, whose whole bodies 
are studded with emeralds which no jeweller can 
match ; shining beetles, bedecked, as it were, with 
amethysts and topazes, and others, which look like 



[January 25, 

spots of crimson velvet, add to the beauty of the 

It is tmfortunate that beauty of prospect cannot 
be generally found in India, joined with the advan- 
tages of situation required for the performance of 
military duties. While nothing can be more ugly 
than the tract marked out for the cantonments of 
Etawah, the ravines into whidi it is broken, at a 
short distance from them, leading to the Jumna, are 
exceedingly picturesque, affording many striking 
landscapes. The sandy winding steeps, on either side, 
are richly wooded with the neem, the peepul, and a 
species of the palm, which, in the upper provinces, 
always stands singly, and is more beautiful than when 
gi-owing in whole groves. Sometimes an opening 
presents a wide view over a wild jungle ; at others it 
gives glimpses of the Jumna, whose blue waters 
sparkle in the beams of the rising or setting sun. 
These ravines can be traversed only on horseback, or 
upon an elephant, and they must be visited by day- 
break to be seen to advantage. However beautiful 
the awakening of nature may be in other parts of 
the world, its balmy delights can never be so highly 
enjoyed as in the climes of the East, where, from its 
afifording such a contrast to the subduing heat of the 
burning noon, it is regard'!d as a blessing of ines- 
timable value. The freshness of the morning air, 
the play of light and shade which is so agreeable to 
the eye, the brightness of the foliage of the trees, 
the vivid hue of the flowers then opening their varie- 
gated clusters to the rising sun, the joyous matins of 
the birds, and the playful gambols of the wild animals, 
as they rise from their dewy couches, tend to enliven 
and exhilarate the spirits, and afford the most grateful 
sensations to the mind. 

Every tree is tenanted by numerous birds ; superb 
falcons look out from their nests on high, and wild 
peacocks fling their magnificent trains over the lower 
boughs, ten or twelve being sometimes on the same 
tree. The smaller birds, in all their varied forms 
and hues, actually crowd the branches ; the crow- 
pheasant chirrs up as strange footsteps approach, 
and wings his way to deeper solitudes, whilst flocks 
of paroquets issue screaming from their woody coverts, 
and spreading their emerald-green plumes, soar up 
till they are lost in the golden sky above. 

At the early dawn, the panther and the hysena may 
be seen escaping to their dens ; the antelope springs 
up, and bounds across the path ; the nylghau scours 
over bush and brier, seeking the distant ])lain ; the 
porcupine retreats grunting, or erects his quills in 
wrath; and innumerable smaller animals, as the 
beautiful little blue fox ; the civet, with its superb 
brush ; and the humble mungoose ; make every nook 
and comer swarm with life. Gigantic herons stalk 
along the river's bank, the Brahminee ducks hover 
above, and huge alligators bask on the sand, stretched 
in profound repose, or watching their prey. 

The gardens of Etawah, though not of course so 
well cultivated as those at the larger stations, are 
extensive and well planted; and afford an agreeable 
retreat during the short period of day-light which the 
heat of the climate will permit to be spent in the 
open air. Their productions are also most valuable. 
Sweet lemons, limes, oranges, and citrons, offer, in 
addition to their superb blossoms and delicious 
perfume, fruit of the finest quality ; and grapes, from 
the way in which they are trained, not only give 
beauty to the plantation, but afford a most grateful 
luxury at the very period of the year (that of the 
hot winds to which India is so much exposed) in 
which they are most acceptable. The melons, which 
grow to a large size, and are most valuable, are 

procured in great abundance, chiefly from the native 
gardens on the banks of the Jumna, as they flourish 
on the sands which border on that river. Mangoes 
and jacks, besides those which grow in gardens, 
occupy large plantations, and, as well as custard- 
apples, plantains, and guavas, are left to the culti- 
vation of the natives. The seeds of European vege- 
tables are sown after the rainy season, and come 
to perfection during the cold weather ; green peas, 
cauliflowers, and Cos lettuce, appear at Christmas, 
bearing, without injury, night-frosts, which would 
kill them in their native climes. 

From this description of a jungle-station, we may 
perceive a proof, that as on the one hand, there is no 
situation in the world without its disadvantages and 
inconveniences, so on the other are there few, if any, 
where a good Providence has not counterbalanced 
what is unpleasant with some, if not many, appro- 
priate comforts. D. 1. E. 
[Chiefly abridged from an article in the Asiatic Journal.] 

I ONCB found, says Gilpin, in the New Forest in Hamp 
shire, an ancient widow, whose little story pleased me. Her 
solitary dwelling stood sweetly in a dell, on the edge of the 
forest. Her husband had himself built it, and led her to 
it, as the habitation of her life. He had made a garden in 
the front, planted an orchard at one end, and a few trees at 
the other, which, in forty years, had now sheltered the 
cottage, and almost concealed it. In her early youth, she 
had been left a widow, with two sons and a daughter, whose 
slender education (only what she herself could give them) 
was almost her whole employment : and the time of their 
youth, she said, was the pleasantest time of her life. As 
they grew up, and the cares of the world subsided, a 
settled piety took possession of her mind. Her age was 
oppressed with infirmity, sickness, and various atlhctions 
in her family. In these distresses, her Bible was her 
great comfort. I visited her frequently in her last illness, 
and found her very intelligent in Scripture, and well versed 
in all tlie Gospel topics of consolation. For many years, 
she every day read a portion of her Bible, seldom any 
other book ; 

Just knew, and knew no more, her Bible true ; 
And in that charter read with sparkling eyes, 
Her title to a treasure in the skies. CowPEn. 

When she met with passages she did not understand, at 
one time, or other, she said, she often heard them ex 
plained at churcli. This little story shows how very suf- 
ficient plain Scripture is, unassisted with any helps except 
such as are publicly provided, to administer both the know 
ledge, and the comforts of religion even to the most un 


llY liofifcl:^. 

Lighter than air, Hope's visions fly. 

If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky ; 

If but a beam of sober reason play 

Lo ! fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! 

But can the wiles of art, the grasp of power. 

Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? 

These, when the trembling spirit wings his flight. 

Pour round his path a stream of living light, 

And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest. 

Where virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest. 

See a fond mother encircled by her children ; with pious 
tenderness she looks around, and her soul even melts with 
maternal love. One she kisses on its cheek, and clasps 
another to her bosom ; one she sets upon her knee, and finds 
a seat upon her foot for another. And while, by theii 
actions, by their Ksping words, and asking eyes, she un 
derstands their numberless little wishes, to these she dis 
penses a look, and a word to those; and, whether she 
grants or refuses, whether she smiles or frowns, it is all in 
tender love. Such to us, though infinitely high and awful 
is Providence; so it watches over us, comforting thes<i 
providing for those, listening to all, and assisting every 
one ; and if sometimes it denies the favour we implore, it 
denies but to invite our more earnest prayers ; or, if seem 
ing to deny a blessing, it grants one in the refusal. 

1834 1 



A Proverb is an instructive sentence, in which 
more is generally meant than expressed ; and, as it is 
designed for the purposes of daily life, its use extends 
to the high and humble, to the learned, as well as 
to him who is no scholar. It owes its origin to the 
sayings of wise men, whether sages or poets ; it is 
sometimes taken from the customs of particular coun- 
tries, and the manners of mankind; it is plainly but 
pleasantly stated, and is not the worse for requiring 
some consideration in the hearer or reader to apply 
it; but the best proof of its goodness, is its striking 
the mind with its truth, and thence causing resolu- 
tions of improvement in knowledge and conduct. 

The oldest and best wTiter of Proverbs, Solomon, 
says, A word spoken in due season, how good is it! 
(Prov. XV. 23.) A mere hint dropped in conver- 
sation, by throwing a strong light upon any subject, 
has often given a person new views of its im- 
portance, and led him to a careful course of study, or 
withdrawn him from a path which was not right nor 
wise : and this may be more especially the case, with 
a well-timed proverb, containing the essence, as it 
were, of a volume, and charming us, not only by its 
wisdom, but by its singularity. It is well said by 
the inspired writer, In due season; for there is no 
small art in applying proverbs properly. When 
duly directed to a point in question, they convince 
and delight; when used frequently and vulgarly, 
they only create disgust. 

Good proverbs deserve a respectable place in the 
literature of a country : they are not to be reckoned 
silly trifles, unfit for people of education, or for those 
beyond a certain age; the fact is, the most learned 
among the ancients, both of Greece and Rome, 
studied them, and handed them down to after- gene- 
rations, as the guides of human life ; and most of the 
" seven wise men of Greece *," are now only known by 
one proverb each. The best known and most popular 
of these sentences was considered a treasury of good 
sense. It was first uttered by Solon ; but a Roman 
poet, struck by its force, declared that it must have 
come down from heaven. The two Greek words 
which formed it, (pronounced Gnothi seiiuton, or. 
Know Thyself,) were written in letters of gold, in 
the porch of one of the Grecian temples ; and the 
lesson, when thoughtfully weighed, niay be of value 
even to us, who are so much better taught by 
Christian precepts. 

But we need scarcely dwell on the dignity of 
proverbs, when it is remembered, that a collection 
under that name, composed by an enhghtened 
king, makes a part of the Sacred Scriptures. It 
is recorded of the wise son of David, that he spake 
three thousand proverbs; and that he spake of trees, 
from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the 
hyssop that springeth out of the wall, as well as, of 
beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of 
fishes. For his Proverbs which remain to us, we 
have reason to be thankful, as they form a store- 
house of true wisdom. In addition, however, to 
this highest class of proverbs, with which we trust 
our readers are well acquainted, (for they were, in the 
full meaning of the words, " written for our learn- 
ing;") there are wise and pithy sayings, not referring 
to ReUgion and morals only, but likewise useful for 
the purposes of life, as affording advice on health, 
diet, comfort, good husbandry, weather, &c. To 
points Uke these, it is beneath no man's notice to 
attend, for the sake of information, if not in all 
cases of practice. 

• These were Solon, Chilo, Pittacus, Bias, Periander, Cleobulus, 
Mcl Thales ; all of whom flouritt^d between five and six hundred 
years before the Christian aera 

A book of proverbs in this mixed and general style, 
was put forth more than a hundred years since,' by 
the famous English naturalist, John Ray, from 
whose work, as the ground of our plan, we pro- 
pose to cull certain sentences for this Magazine, 
Ray's book, though its object was praiseworthy, 
cannot on the whole be recommended. Besides that 
its contents are in many parts unfit for general 
reading, the learned author seems to have heaped 
together all the old " saws," whether "wise" or not, 
and all the " modern instances" that happened to 
come in his way, and to have strung at random 
the precious gems, in company with the worthless 
beads. Throwing aside the latter as they occur, we 
shall use the best judgment we have, in choosing 
some of the genuine "pearls" and "rubies," though 
often set in a homely manner; and thus hope to offer 
to the candid reader of our pages, a collection of 
proverbs, which, while they are many of them 
cheerful and pleasing, will in no case, we trust, prove 
contrary to the spirit of that Wisdom, which is de- 
scribed as " an ornament of grace unto the head, 
and chains about the neck." In attempting this, we 
shall occasionally add Ray's notes as well as some 
of our own, towards explaining or illustrating what 
has gone before. 

The proverbs will generally be alphabetical. 

1. Adversity makes a man wise, not rich. 

The French have a saying, " Tlie wind in a man's 
face makes hira wise." If to be good be the greatest 
wisdom, certainly affliction and adversity make men 
better. — So the Psalmist : It is good for me that I have 
been abided, that I might learn thy statutes. Ps. cxix. 71. 

2. Agree, for the law is costly. 

This is good counsel backed with good reason ; the 
charges of a suit many times exceeding the value of the 
thing contended for. The Italians say to this effect ; " A 
lean agreement is better than a fat sentence." 

3. There is no Alchemy like saving. 

This teaches the benefit of provident behaviour, and 
of taking proper care of honest earnings. And while it 
glances sharply at the folly which once led some people to 
seek for the art of turning things into gold by Alchemy, 
or Chemistry ; it passes a severe, but just censure, on men 
who try by gambling, or any undue and sudden means, to 
jump into a large property. Experience shows such steps 
to be wrong, by their constant failure. The wise king 
powerfully touches this evil. — He that hasteth to be rich 
hath an evil eye, and considereth not that poverty shall 
come upon him. Prov. xxviii. 22. 

4. We shall lie all alike in our graves. 
What a lesson of charity and humility ! 

5. Almost, and very nigh, saves many a lie. 

The meaning of this word almost having some 
latitude, men are apt to stretch it to cover untruths. In 
relating any thing extraordinary, it is better, in case ot 
doubt, to be within, rather than beyond the line of fact. 

6. Anger dieth quickly with a good man. 

7. He that is angry is seldom at ease. 

8. Angry men seldom want woe. 

9. He that is augky without a cause, must be pleased 
without amends. 

10. For that thou canst do thyself rely not on 


They who leave to another, or to an uncertain to- 
morrow, that which they can themselves do at once, need 
not hope for success. Alexander the Great and Julius 
CtBsar, were noted for their ready despatch of work. We 
quote these famous men, because they might clearly have 
left to others many things that they chose to do for 

1 1 . Scald not your lips in another man's pottage. 
He that passeth by, and meddleth with strife 

belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog hy the 
ears. — Prov. xxvi. 17. 

Gay says : — Those who in quarrels interpose, 

Must often wipe a bloody nose. M. 



[January 25. 1834. 



When we stoop forward, as in reading a book which 
lies on the table, we may feel a ligament extending 
from the projecting part of the spine, between the 
shoulders, to the back part of the head. It suspends 
the head, and relieves the muscles. But as man 
generally carries his head erect, this ligament is not 
to be compared in strength with the corresponding 
part in quadrupeds, where, from the horizontal 
position of the spine, the head always hangs. It is 
long and strong in the horse; and the admirable 
thing is, the accurate adjustment of the elasticity of 
this ligament to the weight and position of the head, 
which is balanced by it as on a steel-yard. With 
this circumstance in our mind, let us observe the 
peculiar form of the elephant. One of the grinders 
of the Elephant weighs seventeen pounds, and of 
these there are four; the jaws must be provided to 
give socketing to such teeth, and must have space 
and strength, to give lodgment and attachment to 
muscles sufficient for moving this grinding machine : 
the animal must have its defence too. Now each of 
the tusks sometimes weighs as much as one hun- 
dred and thirteen pounds. To support this enormous 
and heavy head, the seven vertebrce of the neck of 
this animal, (the same , number that we find in the 
giraffe,) are compressed in so remarkable a manner 
as to bring the head close upon the body, making it, 
as it were, a part of the body without the inter- 
position of a neck. But the animal must feed ; and 
as its head cannot reach the ground, it must possess 
an instrument like a hand, to minister to the mouth, 
to grasp the herbage, and lift it to its lips. This 
instrument we see in the proboscis, or trunk. 

Let us now see how the neck and head are accom- 
modated for feeding, when there is no proboscis, and 
when the animal has a short neck. The Elk is a 
strange uncouth animal, from the setting on of its 
head. The weight of the horns is enormous ; and 
if the head and horns were extended forwards from 
the body on an elongated neck, they would over- 
balance the body. When we observe, also, the 
want of relation between the length of the fore-legs 
and that of the neck, it becomes an interesting cir- 
cumstance to find, that the animal feeds off the 
sides of rocks, and does not browse upon the herb- 
age at its feet. A remarkable proof how unable 
this animal is to feed in the common way, was 
afforded by an accident which befel a fine specimen 


in the Zoological Gardens. His food having been 
unintentionally scattered on the ground, he was 
obliged, in order to reach it, to extend his fore-legs 
laterally ; in this position his foot slipped, he dislo- 
cated his shoulder, and died of the accident — 
Bridgewater Treatise ; Sir Charles Bell on the Hand. 

There is no kind of knowledge which, in the hands of the 
diligent and skilful, will not turn to account. Honey 
exudes from all llovvers, the bitter not excepted; and the 
bee knows how to extract it. Bishop Horne. 

During the course of my life, I have acquired some know- 
ledge of men and manners, in active life, and amidst occu- 
pations the most various. From that knowledge, and from 
all my experience, I now protest that I never knew a man 
that was bad fit for any service that was pood. Tliere was 
always some disqualifying ingredient mixing with the com- 
pound, and spoiling it. The man seems paralytic on that 
side : his muscles there have lost their tone and natural 
properties ; they cannot move. In short, the accomplish- 
ment of anything good is a physical impossibility in such a 
man. He C07ild not if he would, and it is not more cer- 
tain than that he would not if he could, do a good or a vir- 
tuous action. Burke. 

He who sacrifices religion to wit, like the people mentioned 

by ^lian, worships a lly, and offers an ox to it. BisHoi- 


National happiness must be produced through the influ 
ence of religious laws. Southey. 


If an Almanack teach us that life wears away. 
It tells us how short-lived our sorrow ; 

If it register joys that must quickly decay 
It but points out far brighter to-morrow 

For then, when the grave shall conclude the brief year 

Of earth-born vexations and pleasures, , 

To the Cliristian, uprising aloft fi-om the bier, 

New worlds shall but open new treasures. 
May the k)t be my 's both portions to know, 

Tliat to mortals or seraphs are given ; 
Oh earth, every blessing that earth can bestow. 

With reversion of blessings in heaven. S. C W. 



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JANUARY, 1834. 

< Prick 
} Onk Penny. 



Vol. IV. 




Amsterdam, the capital of Holland, and one of the chief 
commercial cities of Europe, is situated at the mouth of the 
river Amstel, where it falls into the Y, an arm of the Zuyder 
Zee, or Southern Sea. From this it is separated hy a har, 
the only passage through which is a channel called the 
Pampus. The Amstel is formed by the junction of the 
Drecht and the Meyert, two rivulets, w ich meet near the 
village of Uilhoorn, a few miles from Amsterdam, and in 
Its progress towards the city is several feet above the level 
of the adjacent country, its waters being restrained by 
strong embankments. 


Nothing certain is known of the history of Amsterdam, 
further back than the thirteenth century, when the Lords 
of Amstel possessed a castle at the mouth of the river, 
around which fishermen erected their huts. In course of 
time the huts increased to a village, which was called 
Amstels Vesten, or the fort of the Amstel, because a fort 
was erected to defend it. Towards the end of the thirteenth 
century it was destroyed by fire, and shortly afterwards 

A new dyke was constructed along both banks of the 
Amstel, as far as its mouth ; .a second along the Y, to the 
spot now occupied by the Water-Bridge, or Damrak, called 
Paapenbrug, and to this latter was added a sluice-gate, 
called, in the language of the country, a dam. In a short 
time, Amstels Vesten assumed the character of a town, 
and received the name of Amstelsdam, or Amsterdam. 

Until the year 1490, however, it was surrounded merely 
by a weak palisado. At this time it was encompassed by 
a wall of brick, constructed by order of Mary of Burgundy, 
in order to defend it from the incursions of the inhabitants 
of Utrecht, who were frequently quarrelling « ith the 
Hollanders ; but it was soon after reduced to ashes. The 
people of Guelderland besieged it in 1512; but, not suc- 
ceeding in their attempts to take it, they set fire to the 
ships in the harbour. In 1525 the town-house of Amster- 
dam was attacked by a party of wild enthusiasts, under an 
Anabaptist leader; but they were defeated by the citizens, 
and most of them were cut to pieces. Tumults of a similar 
kind were renewed by persons of the same description in 
1535. The deputies of John of Leyden, who asserted that 
God had made him a present of the Cities of Amsterdam, 
Devinter, and Wesel, assembled twelve of their associates 
at midnight, five of whom were women, and running, 
madly, at the head of them, into^the streets, exclaimed, 
" Woe, woe ; the wrath of God ; woe to Babylon." Tliis 
outrage was soon quelled, but was followed by a regular 
and deep-laid conspiracy against the magistrates of Am- 
sterdam, with a design to wrest the government of the 
city out of their hands. Van Geelen, the head of these 
insurgents, marched his fanatical troop to the town-house, 
on the day appointed, with drums beating and colours 
flying, and there fixed his head quarters. He was attacked 
by the burghers, assisted by regular troops, and headed by 
several of the burgomasters of the city ; and, after an 
obstinate resistance, he was surrounded, with his whole 
troop, and they were put to death in the severest and most 
dreadful manner. In 1578 Amsterdam was besieged by 
the Hollanders, and, after a resistance of ten months, 

During tlie sixteenth century Amsterdam became a 
place of considerable commerce, particularly with the 
Baltic, and obtained the greater part of the trade of 
Antwerp, after that town had fallen a second time under 
the dominion of the Spaniards. In 1585 the western, or 
new part of the city, was built, and new accessions were 
made in 1593, 1612, and 1658. In 1622 it contained 
100,000 inhabitants. During the eighteenth century it 
acquired so much wealth, that it surpassed every other city 
in Europe. It was the great mart for all the productions 
of the east and west, and its harbour was always crowded 
with ships ; but, after the change of government in 1795, 
and the forced alliance of Holland with France, its trade 
and wealth continually diminished. The revolution, how- 
ever, of 181.3 restored the business of Amsterdam, which 
has increased very considerably since that time. 

Amsterdam is built in the form of a crescent, the inward 
curved line and two horns of which extend along the Y, 

and is nine miles and a half in circumference. It covers 
a space of about 900 acres, and is surrounded by a ditch, 
about eighty feet \vi<le, bordered by a row of trees. The 
ramparts have been pulled down, but there are still remain- 
ing twenty-six bastions which formerly defended the walls, 
and these have been converted into mills for grinding corn, 
and other purposes. There are eight handsome stone gates, 
several of which bear the name of the towns to which the 
respective roads lead, namely, the Leydeu-Gate, the 
Utrecht-Gate, the Haeilom-Gate, &c. The number of 
houses amounts to 26,400, and of the inhabitants to 180.000, 
about 17,000 of whom are .Jews. In I 785 the inhabitants 
are said to have amounted to 230,000, and in 1812 to 

Tlie greater part of the inhabitants are engaged in 
trade, and but few in manufactures, except of every-day 
consumption. Many of the poorer classes live in cellars 
under tlie houses of the rich, and others in apartments 
erected on the decks of their trading vessels. 

Tlie soil is so marshy, that the whole town is built upon 
piles, which are driven into the mud by means of machinery, 
and on which are laid strong planks of oak. As each of 
these piles is thirty or forty feet long, some idea may be 
formed of the immense quantity of limber employed in 
the construction of this city. It was in reference to the 
forest foundations of this wonderful ])lace, that the cele- 
brated Erasmus sportively observed, when he first visited 
it, that he had reached a city, the inhabitants of which, 
like crows, lived at the tops of trees. 

Tlie Amstel divides the town into two parts; that on 
the east side called Oude Zydo, the old side, because it 
was the first occupied, and that on the west, called the 
Nieuwe Zyde, the new side. Having reached the centre 
of the town, it takes the name of Rokin, and Hows under 
this name to the Exchange, beneath which it passes. In 
the remainder of its course through the town to the Y, 
it is called the Damrak. Besides this stream, Amsterdam 
is intersected by an immense number of canals, which 
branch off from the Amstel, and di\ide the wliole town 
into small islands, connected together by two hundred and 
ninety bridges of wood or stone, which are, however, so 
contrived, as to allow a free passage for vessels of every 

In a commercial point of view, these canals are very 
convenient ; but the water being stagnant, and large 
quantities of filth being constantly thrown into them, they 
would soon become a nuisance, were not means taken for 
cleansing them. Mills are therefore constructed for the 
express purpose of giving motion to the water in a few of 
the principal canals, and drawing up the mud, which is 
sold as manure. The stagnant water is discharged into 
the Y, and fresh supplies are introduced from tlie Amstel. 
The water of these canals is generally about eight or nine 
feet deep, and the mud at tlie bottom five or six more. 
The surface usually nresents an olive-coloured green, but 
seldom emits any disagreeable smell, except when the 
vessels are moved from one station to another. The sroell 
is then very unpleasant, but cannot he so unwholesome as 
some persons have supposed, for few cities can boast more 
robust and healthy inhabitants than Amsterdam. It 
is said, however, that no cavalry are kept here, as the 
horses become ill, it is supposed, from the badness of the 

For the supply of the inhabitants with water for domestic 
purposes, the article is brought from the river Vegt at 
Wesp, a small town five or six miles distant, and sold 
in the streets at about a farthing for a pail. In winter, 
however, the price sometimes increases to sixpence. Rain- 
water is also carefully collected in cisterns. 


The port of Amsterdam is a mile and a half in length, 
and above a thousand paces in breadth, and is filled with 
a multitude of vessels, forming a kind of floating city. 
Towards the Y, the town is defended against the en- 
croachments of the water, and the drifting of masses of 
ice, by a double row of piles driven into tlie ground, and 
connected together by horizontal beams, called boomen, or 
barriers. Between these piles are twenty-one openings, 
through which the ships pass in and out, and which are 
shut every evening at the ringing of a bell, so that no 
vessel can arrive at, or depart from the quay. In the 



summer the port-bell is rung about ten o'clock, and in 
winter at half-past four. There is a sort of basin outside 
the barriers, called the Laag, in which the heavy ships lie. 
The breadth of the Y, between the city and the opposite 
shore, is about a mile and a half. 

On tlie quay adjoining the port, is the Herring-Tower, 
at which the merchants concerned in the herring-fishery 
hold their meetings, and keep their accounts. On the 
return of the boats from the fishery, it is one of the busiest 
scenes in Amsterdam. The commencement of the season 
is hailed with every demonstration of joy, and the same 
kind of emblems are exhibited as at a o-enera. festival in 
England. At every house where p ckled herrings are 
sold, an ornamented garland is hung over the door, com- 
posed of box-leaves or oranches, intermixed with gilt or 
lacquered paper. The fish are cured as soon as they are 
caught, and the first that are brought to market, are sold 
at sixpence, and even a shilling a piece. So important has 
this fishery always been considered, that the first draught 
of herririgs is always presented to the King ; and opulent 
families have been known, in former times, to give seven 
shillings, and even a guinea, for the first herrings exposed 
to sale. The superior maimer in which the Dutch pickle 
and preserve herrings, is said to be peculiar to themselves. 

On the quay also is anotlier tower, called the Sera 
yershoek Toor, or Tower of Mourners, as it stands on the 
spot where the wives and children of seamen were 
accustomed to take leave of their husbands and fathers 
embarking on foreign voyages. It is now an office con- 
nected with the port. 

The New Canal, extending from Bucksloot, which is 
exactly opposite Amsterdam, to the Holder, is of great 
advantage to the city, as it obviates the necessity of large 
vessels unloading before they enter the harbour, and 
encountering the passage through the Zuyder Zee, which 
was peculiarly ditlicult with contrary winds. This canal, 
which is fifty mdes and a half l>)n;;, one hundred and 
twenty-four feet in breadth at the surface, thirty-six at the 
bottom, and twenty-one feet in depth, was begun in 1819, 
and finished in lS2j, at an expense of about £750,000. 
Like the Dutch canals generally, its level is that of the 
high tides of the sea, from whicli it receives its supply of 
water. The canal is wide enough to admit of one frigate 
passing another. Tlie time occupied in tracking a vessel 
irom Amsterdam, is eighteen hours. 


Amstbrdau has no noble squares, like those which add 
so much to the splendour of London, nor is there any 
bridge worthy of being noticed, except that over the river 
Amstel, which 's built of brick and stone, is six hundred 
feet in Itngth, ..eventy in breadth, and is tolerably hand- 
some. It is called the Lover's Bridge, and commands a 
good view of the city on one side, and the adjacent 
polders on the other. This is the bridge seen in the 
back-ground of the view of Amsterdam given in the first 

Many of the streets of Amsterdam are narrow, but 
others are remarkably spacious, and have a magnificent 
appearance; such as the Heeren-Graft, (Lord-Street,) 
the Keyset's- Graft, (King-Street,) and the Prinssen- 
Graft, (Prince' s-Street,) which are upwards of a hundred 
and forty feet in width, and following the crescent shape 
of the town, are each about two miles in length. All the 
streets are remarkable for their cleanliness, and are \ ery 
neatly paved, chieMy with brick, but there is no separate 
path for pedestrians. In most of them, a canal runs along 
the centre, bordered on each side by a row of noble elm, 
oak, or linden trees. The principal shops are in the 
Kalver's- straat, and the Warinoes-straat, which are usually 
thronged with passengers. 


Most of the houses are built of brick, and almost all are 
approached l)y flights of steps. They are generally lofty, 
and pointed at the top, the gable-end being towards the 
street. In some parts of the town they are constructed 
with double fronts, one towards the street, and the other 
towards a canal. Some of them have stone-fronts, with 
balconies and columns in the Italian style, but many, of 
even the best houses, are disfigured by transforming the 
wntre windows of the upper story into doors, through 
which merchandise of every description is drawn by a 
erane, fixed at the top of the house, the inhabitants, however 
wealthy, being always disposed to trade. The chimneys 

of many of the houses are surmounted, not with circular 
pots, but with sijuare wooden frames, consisting of four 
small posts, capped with a horizontal board, and open on 
every side. When built of brick, they are usually formed 
in the shape of a Y. Many of the houses, except in the 
centre of the town, have gardens. The apArtments are 
generally ornamented with taste, very much in the French 
style, and the walls are frequently painted with a series of 
landscapes in oil-colours, instead of being hung with 
paper, or stuccoed. 

All the principal dwellings have a profusion of windows 
of large plate-glass, but this is more for the sake of orna- 
ment than light, for the Dutch are so fond of retirement, 
that the blinds on the inside are seldom drawn up. In 
order to indulge their love of seclusion, small mirrors are 
projected from the side of the window into the street, so as 
to command a view of the passengers, and save the ob- 
server, who sits behind a curtain in the room, the trouble 
of rising or looking down to see what is passing. In 
many instances, also, another mirror is fixed, so as to show 
who is coining to the doors, and thus give notice of the 
approach of an unwelcome visiter. 

The mode of building houses in Holland, is very 
different from that pursued in this country. Instead of 
beginning at the foundation, they commence at the top, 
and build downwards. The large beams intended to sup- 
port the roof and attic, are made to rest in the party-walls 
of the adjoining houses; on these beams, a studded woode.'i 
frame is erected, to sustain the roof and flooring. In this 
state, the attic is often seen hanging for a considerable 
time before the other parts of the building are commenced. 
One advantage of this method is, that the lower part is 
kept dry, and the workmen can at all times proceed with 
their labours, regardless of the weather. The lower part 
of the house also consists of stud-work, strongly framed 
together, and contracts in its descent to the foundation, 
which rests upon piles driven into the mud. From this 
circumstance, many of the houses lean towards the street, 
and some of them are several feet out of the perpendicular, 
particularly at the corners of the streets, where they are 
still more contracted, to allow greater room to the pas- 
sengers. The panels of the frames are filled up with 
brick-work, but nearly the whole stress is upon the frame 
work. The same method of building is pursued in some 
parts of Belgium. 

In order ihat the foundations of the houses may not be 
disturbed by the rolling along the streets of wheel-car 
riages, these vehicles are, by law, limited to a certain num- 
ber, which is very small compared with the size of the city. 
A carriage called by the Dutch a sley, is used in their 
room ; it is the body of a coach fixed upon a sledge, and 
drawn by one horse; the driver walks by the side of it, 
which he holds with one hand to prevent its falling over, 
and with the other the reins. It holds four persons, and 
moves at the rate of about three miles an hour. This 
mode of conveyance is rendered necessary, by the steep 
ascent of the draw-bridges over the canals, where it would 
be unsafe to use a wheel-carriage, for if it ran back in the 
act of passing over, the whole would fall into the water. 
In the winter it is also convenient, as the sley glides over 
the ice and snow, which would obstruct an ordinary car- 
riage. One of these carriages is represented in the view, 
crossing the bridge. 


Amongst the pubhc buildings of Amsterdam, the 
Royal Palace, formerly the Town Hall or Stadthouse, 
holds the first place. It is unquestionably a wonderful 
edifice, considering that Holland furnishes no stone, and 
that the foundation of the building, like that of all others 
in Amsterdam, was boggy; the latter circumstance ren 
dered it necessary to have an artificial foundation of extra- 
ordinary construction and magnitude, and accordingly 
it rests upon thirteen thousand six hundred and ninety- 
five massy trees or piles, the first of which was driven on 
the 20th of January, 1648, and the last on the 6th of 
October following, when the first stone, with a suitable 
inscription, was laid; and, seven years afterwards, the 
different colleges of magistrates took formal possession of 
the apartments allotted for their respective oflBces, but at 
this time the roof and dome were not completed; the 
expense of this mighty edifice amounted to two millions 
sterling. The whole of the building, with the exception 
of the ground -floor, which is of brick, is of free-stone. 
The principal architect was John Van Kampen, who 

JOl— 2 



acted under the control of four burgomastors. Tho nrm 
in which it stands is spacious, and is called the Dam. 
The form of the building is square, its front is two hundred 
and eij^hty-two feet, its depth two hundred and fifty-five, 
and its liofrht one hundred and sixteen, exclusive of the 
tower, wliich is sixty-seven feet. 

The front of the Palace has seven small doorways, 
which were intended for the representatives of the Seven 
United Provinces ; but the front entrance is now reserved 
for the members of the Royal Family, and the back appro- 
priated to the ministers, public otiicers, and visiters. The 
want of a grand entrance is a great architectural defect, 
which immediately excites the surprise of the traveller; 
but it was so constructed, from the wary precautionary 
foresight of the magistrates, who had the superintendence 
uf the building, for the purpose of preventing free access 
to a mob, in case of tumult. 

Each front has a projecting portion in the centre, and at 
the angles of the building are pavilions surmounted by 
eagles of gilt bronze, and imperial crowns, which were 
presented to the city by Maximilian, emperor of Germany. 
On tlie facade, and ranged along the second story, there 
are lliirty pilasters of the composite order, each thirty-six 
feet in height; a second range, of the Corinthian order, 
forms a third story, supporting the entablature, out of which 
rises a pediment, adorned with sculpture ; and on the cor- 
nice are figures of Peace, Prudence, and Justice. The 
pediment at the back is also sculptured, and on the cornice 
are figures of Strength, Temperance, and Vigdance. On 
the top of the building is a cupola and dome, terminated 
by a vane in the form of a ship, the ancient arms of the 

The principal hall m the Palace is a splendid apartment, 
one hundred and fifty-t vo feet long, sixty broad, and one 
luindred high. The walls are entirely composed of white 
marble, and arc hung with trophies and standards taken 
by the Dutch. The bronze gates and railing which form 
l!ie grand entrance are massive, but beautifully executed : 
over this entrance is a colonnade of Corinthian pillars of 
red and white marble. At one end is a colossal figure of 
Atlas, attended by Vigilance and Wisdom. The roof is 
painted with allegorical figures : and upon the lloor, the 
celestial and terrestrial globes are delineated in brass and 
various coloured marbles, arranged in three large circles, 
'wenty-two feet diameter. On the ground-Uoor of the 
palace were formerly deposited the vast treasures of the 
Bank of Amsterdam, which, at one period of the city's 
commercial prosperity, are said to have amounted to 
40,000,000/. sterling of the precious metals. This building 
also foi-merly contained prisons, both for criminals and 
debtors, but these have been Iransferretl to more suitable 

The prospect from the tower, or dome, is very extensive, 
commanding the whole of the city and its environs, crowded 
with windmills, the river Y, filled with ships, the Zuyder 
Zee, the Anistel, the Ilaerlera Lake, and the Arsenal. The 
tower contains a vast number of bells, the largest of which 

weighs bclToon six and seven thousand pounds : tlie 
carillons in this dome are remarkably sweet. The brass 
barrel by which the airs are played, is seven feet and a 
half in diameter, and weighs four thousand four hundred 
and seventy-four pounds. The clock strikes the full hour 
at the half hour, and upon the expiration of the full hour, 
repeats it upon a bell of a deeper tone. This, indeed, is the 
case with many of the clocks in Holland, and has fre- 
quently led travellers, unacquainted with the circumstance, 
into error. 

When Louis Buonaparte was created King of Hollana, in 
1808, he took possession of this building as his palace, 
and the civil and municipal authorities, who then occupied 
it, were removed to a building in the vicinity, which was 
once a convent, but had been converted at the Reformation 
into the Prince's Hotel, and afterwards became the 

The Exchange, which was built between 1608 and 1613, 
but enlarged in 1608, is situated at the end of the Rokin, 
and rests upon five arches, through which the Arastel 
Hows into the Damrak. It is a quadrangidar building of 
free-stone, two hundred and fifty feet long, and one hun- 
dred and forty wide, consisting of an open square sur 
rounded by galleries, beneath which the merchants assemble 
The galleries are supported by marble columns, each 
being numbered, and appropriated to some particular class 
of traders. The upper part of the Exchange is occupieil 
by the treasury, and the cellars on both sides are inhabited. 
In one part of the building is an inscription, recording the 
visit of the Emperor Alexander in 1814. Although tho 
commerce of Amsterdam is not so extensive as in former 
times, yet it is still important: and at 3 o'clock every day. 
the Exchange presents a bustling scene. 

The Corn Exchange, situated on the Damrak, is a 
building of free-stone, erected in 1 766. It is a covered 
gallery, forming three sides of a square, the fourth, 
towards the street, being enclosed by an iron railing. 

The Dock-yard is one of the most remarkable objects in 
Amsterdam. It is situated on the island of Kattenburg, 
and has the advantage of a large basin communicating 
with the Y. There are five slips for building ships of the 
line, four for the largest class of frigates, and twelve for 
smaller vessels. 

The Arsenal, adjoining the Dock-yard, is a fine building, 
erected in 1665. It is 220 feet in length, and 200 in breadth, 
and is adorned with sculpture, emblematical of navigation. 
At the top of the building is a reservoir, capable of 
holding sixteen hundred tons of water, which, in case of 
fire, may be distributed through all parts of the edifice 
The number of workmen employed here, is about 1.500. 

The Naval School is near the Arsenal. It enjoys consi- 
derable funds, by means of which, the children of common 
sailors, properly recommended, are educated gratuitously, 
while the sons of officers are admitted on payment of a 
small sum monthly. In the yard is a vessel completely 
rigged, on which the boys are exercised. 

Another large building, situated near the Muyden GMe. 





IS the Barrack of St. Charles, capable of containing 
nearly 3,000 men. It was erected in 1800. 

The Workhouse of Amsterdam, situated in the east part 
of the city, has long been celebrated for its excellent ma- 
nagement. It is partly correctional and partly charitable, 
and while it affords a comfortable refuge to the poor, is an 
admirable school for the reformation of offenders. The 
building is three hundred and sixty feet in length, and one 
hundred and eighty in breadth, and is capable of accom- 
modating nearly a thousand inmates. In the rooms 
belonging to the governors and directresses, are some 
exquisite pictures by Vandyke, Rembrandt, and Jordaens. 
Some of the offences for which persons are occasionally 
confined in the workhouse, are not such as are usually 
rognizable by English law : for instance, husbands may, upon 
complaint of extravagance or drunkenness, duly proved, 
send their wives to be confined and receive the discipline 
of the house; and wives their husbands, for two, three, 
and four years together. In one part of the building, 
never shown to strangers, young ladies of good family are 
confined, by order of their parents or friends, for undutiful 

The Rasp House, or House of Correction, where crimi- 
nals, whose offence is not of a capital nature, are confined, 
IS another establishment worthy of notice. The interior is 
an oblong square, on three sides of which are the cells of 
the prisoners, and on the fourth side, the warehouses 
containing the piles of wood, which are given to the 
prisoners as their daily task. Some are employed in 
cutting the wood, and others, in rasping it for the use of 
the dyers. In a coiner of the court-yard is a cell, so con- 
trived, that if the person placed in it do not continue to 
l)ump, he will be drowned. It has not, however, been used 
for many years. 

The law in Holland is by no means sanguinary, and 
few crimes are punishable with death ; but it is clearly 
defined, and the penalty strictly enforced. Its object is to 
reform, not to destroy. Tliose who violate the rights of 
society are subject to imprisonment from two to twenty 
years, and are compelled, by hard labour, to contribute to 
the revenue of the state. 


Amsterdam contains ten Reformed Dutch churches, a 
French Reformed church, an English Presbyterian church, 
•wenty-two Roman Catholic churches, a Walloon church, 
three Lutheran churches, a Greek or Russian church, and 
several synagogues, but none of these buildings are dis- 
tinguished by much architectural beauty. 

The New Church, so called, although it has been built 
two or three centuries, is one of the principal. It is si- 
tuated on the Dam, near the Palace, and is said to have 
been erected in imitation of the cathedral at Amiens. 
It is upwards of three hundred feet in length, more than 
two hundred in breadth, and is lighted by seventy-five 
large windows. It contains the splendid monument erected 
by the government, in honour of Admiral Ruyter, the 
celebrated admiral who was wounded at Messina in 1676, 

and died shortly afterwards at Aosta. Over the entrance 
to the tomb is inscribed, "Intaminatis fulget honoribus." 
He shines with untarnished honours. There are also 
monuments in honour of Admiral Bentinck, who died in 
1781, at the battle of the Dogger Bank, of Admiral 
Kensbergen, and the Dutch poet Vondel. The pulpit is of 
acacia-wood curiously carved, with representations of the 
Four Evangelists and the Christian Virtues; and the 
organ has been much extolled on account of its size and 
powers of execution. 

Tlie Old Church, in the Warmoes-straat, dedicated to St. 
Nicholas, also contains several monuments, amongst which 
are those of Admiral Janz Sweers, Vander Hulst, Vander 
Zaan, Heemskirk, and Marshal Wirtz. Three large 
painted windows in this church are much admired; they 
represent the Salutation of the Virgin, the Virgin visited 
by her cousin Elizabeth, and the Virgin dying. Two of 
these windows are said to have been the gift of a wealthy 
burgomaster, named Claas Van Sloppen. He was accused 
of heresy, and of favouring the new or reformed religion. 
Tlie priests and his confessor threatened him with excom 
munication, unless he recanted, and immediately undertook 
a pilgrimage to Rome, to obtain absolution from the pope, 
who had, no doubt, previously been made acquainted with 
his wealthy circumstances, and also that he was a bon 
vivant. The penance imposed by his holiness was, that he 
should make a pre-^ent of two painted-glass windows to 
the church of St. Nicholas, and that, for one whole year, 
he should drink nothing but water. The expense of the 
glass windows was but a trifle to a man of his great 
wealth ; but, never having been a water-drinker, he felt 
convinced of his inability to perform that part of the 
punishment. He therefore begged for a second audience, 
at which he acquainted his holiness, that the water of 
Amsterdam was so unwholesome, that nobody drank it 
plain ; and all he requested, was to be permitted to add a 
few grains of corn to correct its impurities, or he feared he 
should die before the windows were finished. The pope 
assented to this reasonable request, and Van Hoppen 
took good care to malt his water well. The Old Church 
is two hundred and forty-nine feet in length, two hundred 
and twenty-five feet at its greatest breadth, and six hun- 
dred and forty feet in circumference. 

" In Holland clergymen are familiarly, but as a term of 
respect, called Domini. They are easily recognised by 
their court-looking dress and cocked hat. In the pulpit, 
instead of a gown, they use a long inantel, which consists 
of black cloth, only six inches broad, edged with silk, and 
fastened with a hook to the collar of the coat. Originally 
this mantle, from the numerous plaits of which it is com 
posed, must have been sufficient to envelop the person, 
but probably, has gradually been reduced, to gi\e more 
liberty to the speaker. Few of the clergy preach from 
memory. They generally read their discourses ; and 
sometimes, though rarely, their prayers. They are held 
in the greatest respect by the Dutch. In gmieral, thev 
are certainly exemplary and zealous in the discharge oi 
their sacred functions. And, like the people at large, are 



distinguished for loyalty and strong attachment to their 

The appearance of the congregation in a Dutch church 
is singular. Considerable time and labour are requisite in 
preparing for the worshippers, and, in a large church, many 
attendants are employed. Almost all the females are 
accustomed to keep their feet warm, by placing them on a 
chauffe-pied, or little pot with burning turf, the lid of which 
is perforated to diffuse the heat. The women sit by them- 
selves in the body of the church, and the men in oak- 
pews along the aisles, and, in cold weather, they also 
require the chauffe-pied. The women never alter their 
position after they are once seated, but, during the prayers, 
put a fan before the face. Tlie men sit covered, except 
during prayer, when they rise and take off their hats. The 
dress of the females, generally consisting of a mob-cap, a 
print-gown, and a satin-apron, is so uniform, that little 
distinction of rank is visible to an ordinary observer. They 
usually come to church without either bonnet or cloak, and 
even if it rain, walk through the shower with the calmest 

Tlie dress of the children in the Orphan School of Amster- 
dam is very singular; the coats, or jackets, of the boys 
are divided lengthways, one-half being of red and the other 
black. The girls are dressed in woollen gowns and aprons, 
with a white square linen cap, pinned close to the head in 
a peculiar form. 

The Beguinest possess an institution in Amsterdam. 
These ladies reside in a large isolated building, contiguous 
to which is a church, and numerous inferior otfices appro- 
priated to their order, the whole being surrounded by a 
wall and ditch. Any female may enter into this society, 
being urmiarried, or without children, upon a certificate of 
good character, and of her having an adequate income for 
her support. Each sister is required to attend stated 
p' avers, and to be within the walls at a given hour at 
night ; she has a small flower-garden devoted to her use : 
she is not distinguished by any dress, is free to pursue 
her own former habits during the day, and may marry 
from, or leave the establishment, when she pleases. 


All births in Amsterdam, as well as in other Dutch 
towns, are registered by the police : and the parents of a 
child are subject to a penalty if they do not give notice of 
Its birth, within three days, to the nearest magistrate or 
burgomaster. They then receive a copy of the register, 
which authorizes any minister to baptize the child if 
required, but if he should do so without this document, he 
is liable to a penalty. 

Marriage, in Holland, is a civil contract, entered into 
before the magistrate, notice having been previously given 
of the intention of the parties ; they then attend with two 
or three friends as witnesses, and the magistrate's clerk 
reads over the marriage-contract, to which they give their 
assent by signing their names. Sometimes a religious 
service takes place afterwards in the church, but this is not 
essential to the validity of the contract. Upon the celebra- 
tion of marriage amongst the genteeler classes, it is the 
custom for the bride and bridegroom to send each a bottle 
of wine, generally fine hock, spiced and sugared, and 
decorated with all sorts of ribands, to the house of every 
acquaintance, a custom which is frequently very expensive. 

The manner of performing burials is remarkable. On 
the decease of any person, immediate notice must be given 
to the magistrate, who employs an officer, called the 
aansprceker, or announcer, to ascertain the fact, and to 
make a public announcement of it. This person acts as a 
sort of crier, and is singularly dressed, wearing a long 
mourning cloak, a large three-cornered hat, with crape 
hanging from one of its corners, a pair of large clerical 
bands in front, and a Ions; scarf streaming behind from the 
collar of his coat. In this costume he calls at every door 
in the neighbourhood, and reads from a paper the name, 
age, and other particulars of the deceased. If the person 
be of wealth or consequence, several of these officers are 
employed, in order to give a wider cu-culation to the 

Preparations are then made for the funeral, which is left 
almost entirelv to the undertaker and the aanspreekor, the 
relatives generally retiring from the scene. There is no 

* Steven's Hhtory of the Church at Rotterdam. 

f A religious order of females. Ttie word is said by some to be 
derived from St. l^gge. Duchess of Hrabant, who lived in the 
(evenlh century, and was famous for her piety. 

passing-bell, no religious ceremony, and seldom any funeral 
procession, unless the following may be so called. The 
body is put into an oak coffin, and placed upon a car, 
somewhat like a hearse, but open on the sides, so that 
the coffin may be distinctly seen. The car is drawn by a 
pair of horses ; the aansprceker walks befbre it, followed 
by the undertaker and his assistant, and the official 
mourner, who is dressed in a mourning cloak, bands, and 
scarf, with a large tlat hat, several feet in circumference, 
and a wig of dishevelled hair hanging down to the waist. 
Sometimes, but rarely, a mourning coach follows the car, 
containing an individual, as the representative of the family. 
In this way the body is conveyed to the Kerk-hof or 
burial place. This is a yard usually adjoining the church, 
surrounded by a wall to the height of twelve or fourteen 
feet. Tlie coffins are placed in rows, one above another, 
till they are nearly level with the top of the wall; a little 
sand is then spread over them, and the hof is closed till 
the bodies are sufficiently decayed to be removed. The 
process is hastened by exposure to the atmosphere, but tl>e 
nuisance to the neighbourhood is intolerable. When 
Holland was in possession of the French, an attempt 
was made to do away with some of these disgusting 
cemeteries, and to provide more suitable places for the 
reception of the dead ; but the burgomasters pleaded the 
expense, as the soil being so marshy, it would require 
immense quantities of sand, to make it solid enough for 
the purposes of interment, and strong embankments to 
protect it from the Hoods ; and ultimately succeeded in 
maintaining the old method. When the hof has remained 
closed several years, while another has been filling, it 
is again opened ; the coffins are broken up, and the 
fragments tied up and sold as firewood ; the furniture is 
colfccted and sold to dealers in old iron; the remaining 
bones are wheeled away in barrows, and into a 
vault beneath the church; and the rest is sold to farmers 
for manure. The hof is then swept out, and ready to 
receive new inmates. 

MUSEUM, &c. 

Amsterdam possesses a splendid Museum of Pictures, 
which is deposited in a building called the Trippenhuis, 
from the name of the original owner which was Trip. It 
was first formed in 1798, and has been gradually increas- 
ing to the present time. It is a singular circumstance, 
that this is almost the only fine collection in Europe, which 
was not removed to Paris by Buonaparte. 

"The Museum," says a modern tourist*, "is a good 
building, containing, on two floors, seven or eight rooms, 
well filled with nearly five hundred pictures, chiefly of the 
Dutch and Flemish schools, and many of them among the 
finest specimens of the several masters. Some of the best 
were removed from the Stadthnis when it became the palace ; 
and to these were added others that were purchased, at the 
public expense, from private collections. A very few only 
can be noticed here. There are five pictures of Gerard 
Dow, all of them good, but two, in particular, are eminently 
beautiful. The one is a large picture of a school by can- 
dle-light. The other is a cavalier, and a richly-dressed 
lady, under the shade of a thick wood, highly and beauti- 
fully finished. There are three pictures of Van Dyke, but 
none in his best manner. A magnificent picture of B. 
Van der Heist, which Sir Joshua Reynolds pronounced to 
be, and few will dispute the propriety of his taste, superior 
to another large picture of Rembrandt, in the same col- 
lection, and so it is considered by the artists of Holland. 
It represents a feast given by the officers of a company of 
the civic guard of Amsterdam, commanded by Captain 
Witts, to the Spanish ambassador, in commemoration of 
the peace concluded at Munster in 1648. Another picture 
of Vander Heist, representing a party of cross-bowmen, is 
fiue, but every way inferior to the preceding. A very 
large picture of Paul Potter, representmg a mountainous 
landscape, in the fore-ground of which is a boar defending 
itself against the attack of some dogs, urged by a hunter 
on horseback, accompanied by another on foot, while on 
the right of the picture, a young bear is seen clambering 
up a tree, with a dog springing after it. Another specimen 
of Paul Potter, is a rich landscape, well filled with oxen, 
goats, sheep, asses, &c. There are four pictures of 
Rembrandt, the most remarkable of which is that well 
known under the name of the Night Watch, wluch, if we may 
believe the Dutch, who ought to know, and the descriptive 
catalogue, is entirely a misnomer. It represents tlie 
* Tour through South Holland, 



departure of a Captain Kok, with his officers and arque- 
ousiers, to fire at a mark. Rubens does not shine here ; 
there are but two pictures of his. Jan Steen has a great 
number of pictures, the most exquisite of which, if not of 
his whole works, is that of a baker, in his shirt, placing 
his hot loaves on the window of his shop, while the boy is 
blowing the horn to announce " hot rolls." 

There are also in this collection several pictures hy 
Teniers and Ostade ; Sea-pieces, by Van de Velde and 
Backhuysen ; Battle-pieces, by Wouvermans ; Birds, Plants, 
and Insects, by Hondekoeter; Flowers and Fruits, by 
Huysura, Mignon, Van Os, and De Heem, besides many 
other pictures of great merit. 

In the same building are deposited numerous antiquities 
and other curiosities ; amongst them are two canes, which 
belonged to Admirals De Ruyter and Van Trorap, the 
chair occupied by Barneveldt when in prison, and a wooden 
ball, into which each of the confederate nobles drove a 
nail, as a token of fi^delity to the league formed against the 
Duke of Alva. The whole is open to the public. 

There are several literary institutions in Amsterdam, 
which are liberally supported. The Felix Meritis is the 
principal, and ranks amongst its members the most 
eminent literary and scientific men in Holland. Its 
object is, the promotion of the arts and sciences. The 
house in which its'*sittings are held, is situated in the 
Keyser's-graft, and contains a handsome concert-room, a 
theatre for the delivery of lectures, and a museum. There 
is also an Academy of Painting, Sculpture, Engraving, 
and Architecture. 

At the Anatomical Theatre in the New Market, are 
preserved the skeletons of criminals who have been 
executed, and whose bodies have been sent here for dis- 
section. They are dressed in the clothes they wore when 
living, and bear labels, stating what were the crimes foi 
which they suffered. 

At the southern extremity of the city, near the work- 
house, is the plantation, consisting of about a hundred 
acres, laid out in avenues at right angles with each other, 
interspersed with small villas and summer-houses, and the 
whole surrounded by canals. To this spot such of the 
citizens and their families repair in the summer, to dine or 
drink tea, whose finances or spirit of economy will not 
admit of their having a house in the country. To render 
these rural indulgences as cheap as possible, three or 
four families sometimes join in renting a small cottage, or 
summer-house and garden. Adjoining the plantation is a 
small botanic garden, but it possesses few rare or curious 


Amsterdam abounds with institutions for the alleviation 
of human misery and distress in all their various shapes. 
There are not less than forty, and many of these are 
buildings of considerable size. Amongst them are nine 
hospitals and schools, for orphans, a lunatic asylum, and 
a foundling hospital containing nearly three thousand 
children. In some of these establishments a very bene- 
ficial regulation is made. Not more than two or three 
regular nurses are kept ; but the oflSces of kindness and 
attention to the sick, are discharged by those who are 
recovering. This saves expense, and they who have reaped 
the benefit of the institution, are enabled to repay the debt 
of gratitude in the most pleasing and efficient way. The 
first society for the restoration of drowned persons was 
formed in this city, in 1767, so that to the Dutch nation 
the English are indebted for those admirable institutions, 
by whicti so many of our countrymen have, at various 
times, been snatched from death, and restored to their 

There are numerous schools in Amsterdam for the in- 
struction of the children of the poor, who are admitted, 
under die direction of a certain number of managers, 
without distinction of religious sects. About four thou- 
sand children are thus educated. 


TnK dress of the upper classes in Amsterdam, differs 
but little from that worn by persons of the same rank in 
other cities of Europe. The ladies imitate the Parisian 
fashions, but the tradesmen's wives and servants seldom 
wear any covering on their head, but a cap, during the 
summer. In winter they have long cloaks with hoods, 
which they draw on their heads, concealing the greater 

part of the face. Some of the ^merly gentlemen may 
still be seen dressed as in the days of Queen Elizabeth, 
v^ith a large three-cornered hat, a bushy wig slightly 
powdered, a long-waisted coat with large-buttoned cuffs, a 
satin waistcoat with long flaps, knee and shoe buckles of 
massive silver, and a stout walking-cane mounted with 
gold ; but the young men differ but little in dress from 
the English. Tne little round hat. the puckered jacket, 
and the capacious breeches, having entirely disappeared at 
Amsterdam, and being only visible in some of the remote 
parts of Holland. 


The government of Amsterdam is vested in a senate or 
council of thirty-six members, and twelve burgomasters. 
The members of the council sit during life, and fill up 
the vacancies that occur in their own numbers by their 
own suffrages. The burgomasters, who are chosen by the 
citizens, out of a double number first nominated by the 
council, sustain the active magistracy of the city in rota- 
tion ; the government of each lasting only tiu'ee months, 
and the four who are to preside during the year being 
annually appointed burgomasters regent, an office very 
similar to that of the Lord Mayor of London. These 
magistrates have the keys of the bank deposited with 
them. Tliere is also a court of burgomasters w hich decides 
all criminal causes ; but in civil causes there is an appeal to 
the provincial council. The senate of Amsterdam for- 
merly appointed the deputies to the States General, in 
which this city only held the fifth rank, although it sent 
four representatives, or double the number of any other of 
the cities of Holland. 

Tlie police is under excellent regulations, and street- 
robberies and house-breaking are seldom heard of. The 
men employed as watchmen are stout and acti\e, but can 
scarcely he justly denominated guardians of the peace and 
quiet of the inhabitants, as they spring their rattles every 
time they call out the hour of the night. Very few 
beggars are seen in the streets, arid these are generally the 
aged and infirm. 

Fires very seldom occur in Amsterdam. To guard 
against their spreading when they do, persons are appointed 
to stay all day and night in the towers of the highest 
churches, and as soon as they observe the flame, to hang 
out, if it be in the day, a flag ; if in the night, a lantern ; 
towards that quarter of the city in which it rises ; and to 
accompany this by the blowing of a trumpet. 


The country surrounding Amsterdam is low and marshy, 
but it consists of good pasturage, and abounds with peat, 
which is here used for fuel. When the peat is dug out, it 
is piled up about a foot or more in height, and when 
sufficiently dry, is cut into small pieces, and laid up in 
barns for sale. A great number of horned cattle are fed 
hero, and the cows yield a large quantity of excellent 

In many places, the land is divided into polders. These 
are plots of ground enclosed by a bank of earth, and 
surrounded by a water-course, furnished with a flood-gate. 
The water is then pumped out of the enclosure by means 
of wind-mills, and the ground is thus drained. In conse- 
(|ueiice of the marshy nature of the soil, the atmosphere 
is heavy, and by no means healthy to those who have been 
accustomed to a dry air. The natives, however, experience 
no inconvenience from it. 


About four or five miles from Amsterdam, is Brock or 
Broek, one of the most curious, and one of the prettiest 
villages in Holland. The streets are divided by little 
rivulets ; the houses and summer-houses, formed of wood, 
painted green and white, though whimsical in their ap- 
pearance, are all remarkably neat. They are like so many 
mausolea, for the silence of death reigns throughout 
the place. The inhabitants, who have formed a peculiar 
association among themselves, scarcely ever admit a 
stranger within their dcKirs, and hold but little intercourse 
with each other. They are generally rich, and so attached 
to their homes, that during an inundation which took place 
a few years ago, and flooded the whole village, none of 
them could be induced to leave: they retreated to the 
upper floors, and received provisions in boats. The shut- 
ters of the windows in front, are generally kept closed, and 



the principal door is never opened, except at a baptism, a 
marriage, or a death. Almost every house, also, has a 
familv table, which is never used but on one of these oc 
-■asioiis. The streets are paved in mosaic work, with 
various-<voloiired bricks, pebbles and cockleshells, and are 
kept with the greatest care. No carriages arc allowed to 
pass along them, and it is said, that there was formerly a 
law, which obliged passengers to take off their shoes in 
summer, before they entered them. A man is said to 
have been reprimanded for sneezing in the streets, and a 
clergyman, who succeeded a very old predecessor, was 
treated with great shyness by his lluck, because he omitted 
to lake off his shoes when' ascending the pulpit. The 
little vards in front of these singular houses, are covered 
with sand, laid out in festoons and various devices; and 
the gardens attached to them present some of the most 
grotesque ornaments : deer, dogs, peacocks, chairs, tables 
and ladders, being cut out of box, in endless profusion, 
whilst wooden swans and ducks, edge the small pieces of 
water with which the grounds are interspersed. 


A.\oTHKR remarkable place in tlie vicinity of Amster- 
dam is Saardara, or Zaandam, celebrated as the village 
where Peter the Great worked as a shipwright. At a 
distance it appears a city of wind-inifls, there being no less 
tiian four hundred saw, pa))er, tobricco, and corn mills, 
which add greatly to the wealth and prosperity of the 
place. There were formerly large magazines of timber, 
but no large ships are now built here, as the harbour has 
been long choked up with mud. The houses are principally 
built of wood. The principal street, or road, is about two 
miles long, and is bordered by a narrow canal, over which 
there are upwai-ds of one hundred small bridges, forming 
tlie approaches to the houses, which are situated in small 
gardens on the opposite bank. 

It was in icafi that Peter the Great, under the name of 
Peter Michaeloff, presented himself at Saardam in the 
dress of a sailor, and entered the employ of one of the 
shipwrights. He worked for many weeks without any 
idea of his raid; being entertained by his foUow-labourers ; 
but when they discovered that lie was the Czar of all the 
Russias, they wished to pay him suitable respect; this, 
however, he refused, and insisted that they should all work 
together on the same terms of familiarity as before. The 
use which he nuido of the knowledge he obtained, here and 
at Deptford, is well known. 

The hut in which Peter resided has been carefully pre 
served in the same state, and, in 1 82,'i, was puridtasod by 
the Princess of Orange, the sister of the Emperor Alex- 
ander. By her direction a brick building has bo^n erected 
O'er it. so as to preserve it from injury. The liut consists 
of two rooms on the ground-floor above which is a loft 

where Peter kept various specimens of boat-huilding. The 
sitting-room contains his oak table and three chaiis, ui 
well as the recess in which he slept. The walls are covered 
with the names of persons who have visited the spot, and 
there are several albums also, in which strangers have 
inserted their signatures. The Emperor Alexander visited 
the hut in 181 1, and ordered two tablets to be put up in 
the lower room ; one bears the words Pctro Magna, 
Alexander ; the other may be thus translated, — " Nothing 
is too little for a great man." 


The road from Amsterdam to Saardara is made along 
one of tliose surprising efforts of human industry, termed 
a dyke, by means of which, the Dutch nave been enabled 
to bar out the encroachments of the ocean. As the 
traveller passes along if, he sees, on one side, the land many 
yards below him, whilst on the other, the sea rises almost 
to a level with his feet. These dykes are of various 
heights and thickness according to their situation. They 
are formed with a slope on each side, and many of them 
are sufficiently wide at the top for two carriages to go 
along them. The side of the mound towards the sea, is 
ornamented and strengthened by a species of reed, which 
is carefully planted by the Hollanders in spring and 
autumn. This catching the sand which the tide drives 
against the dyke, it rapidly accumulates, and soon affords 
a thick covering for the original mound. There is some- 
times a second dyke formed behind the first, so that 
should the water burst the outer one, the second may save 
the country from inundation, whilst the hollow between 
the two, serves as a canal to cany off the occasional floods. 
These dykes are kept in repair by the government, at 
an immense expense ; but their maintenance is absolutely 
necessary to the preservation of the countiy, a 
derable portion of Holland being below the level of the sea. 
The poet Goldsmith alludes to these extraorlinarv 
works of the Hollanders, in the following beautiful lines. 

Mf.thinks her patient pons before me stand, 
AVhere the broad octan leans against tiie Hnd, 
And, .'^(idulous to stop tiie coming tide, 
l-it't tlie tall rampirc's artificial pridt. 
Onwavd, methinks, and diligently slow, 
'i'he firm-connected bulwark seems to go . 
Spreads its long arms against the watery roar. 
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore ; 
\Vhile the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile. 
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile , 
The slow canal, the yellow-blossom'd vale, 
'f he willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, 
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 
A new creation rescued from his rei^n. 
Thus, while around the wave-subjected sod 
Impels the native to repeated toil ; 
Industrious habits in each bosom leign. 
And industry begets a love of gain. 

llMTs] nj riTi i; Mil (.; t \j, a i saahoam. 

10NI>!)N PublBliedliy JOHN WILLIAM PARKER. Wwi Stuand ; acd sold by all Bool>scJler», 


^^Vlt V 41^11 

N9 102. 



l^J, is:;4. 

5 Price 
i One Penny. 




Vol.. IV, 




[February 1 

This church, of which we have given a view in the 
preceding illustration, is, in France, esteemed to be 
one of the purest specimens of Gothic architecture 
that exist. It is curious in its appearance, and in- 
teresting as a subject of comparison with the more 
splendid and celi/brated edifices described in this 

The town of Dijon stands in the interior of France, 
at about eighty miles from its eastern limit, and at 
nearly equal distances from the seas which bound it 
on the North, South, and West. It is an ancient and 
well-built town, and was formerly the capital of the 
Duchy of Burgundy, and the seat of the Parliament 
of that province. It is now the chief town of the 
department of the C6te-dOr, and, in extent and 
importance, may be classed with our English cities 
of Exeter and Worcester. It possesses an University 
of a high character ; and an Academy of Science and 
Literature, which has long maintained a distinguished 
reputation. Among the principal public edifices, one 
of the most striking is the palace of the ancient 
Dukes of Burgundy, which now contains a gallery 
of painting and sculpture. It is sun counted by an 
extensive tower, which once bore the name of the 
terrasse du logis du Rot, and is now used as the Obser- 
\atory of the Academy. 

The churches of Dijon are numerous, and among 
them, the Church of Notre-Dame is the most worthy 
of attention. Its origin is commonly attributed to 
Saint Louis, and it is, in many respects, similar to the 
church at Mantes, also ascribed to that monarch. 
The period of its foundation, is generally supposed 
to be the middle of the thirteenth century; but 
there is no account of its consecration, until 1334. 
The western, or principal front, resembles in some 
degree, the southern porch of the Cathedral at 
Chartres. It has an open portico, which presents 
three arches in front, and extends two arches in 
depth. The doorways are ornamented with columns 
crowded together in a singular manner; and on 
some of them, statues, which have been destroyed, 
were once placed. The canopies which project above, 
consist of architectural models, exhibiting, for the 
most part, a repetition of the same subject. The 
space over the arches, was originally occupied with 
figures ; and a species of Roman or Arabesque orna- 
ment is there observed, which indicates an approx- 
imation to the Roman style, not unfrequent in the 
earlier Gothic. Above this portico, two series of 
arches rise, the one upon the other, and each sup- 
ported by a long range of nineteen columns. The 
plan of the building is a Latin cross. One of the 
most remarkable circumstances in its architecture, 
is the extreme thinness of its walls. Those of the 
turrets, which rise 1 00 feet above the roof, are not six 
inches thick, and others are in the same proportion. 
The shafts which are iised in ornamenting the interior 
of the tower, are, some of them, only seven inches 
in diameter to twenty feet in length, and others, only 
five and a half inches in diameter, although fifteen 
feet long. These frequently consist of one single 
stone, and are all entirely detached from the wall. 

The clock which belongs to this church, is curious 
in itself, and remarkable for the associations con- 
nected with it. It formed a part of the spoils of the 
town of Courtrai, which was sacked by Philippe le 
Hardi, in 138-1, on the occasicm of suppressing a 
revolt of the Flemings. " The Duke of Burgundy," 
says Froissart, " had taken down a curious clock 
which struck the hours, the handsomest that was to 
be seen on either side of the sea, which he had 

packed up, and placed on carts with its bell, and 
carried to Dijon, where it was put up, and there 
strikes the hours day and night." This clock was 
ornamented with two moveable figures, and is one of 
the earliest specimens of a regulated horological 
machine, which history mentions. 

Of the other churches of Dijon, the most remark- 
able is the Cathedral of Saint-Benigne, the spire of 
which has an elevation of 375 feet. Behind tlie 
choir of this church, there formerly existed an 
ancient circulju- temple, which was said to have been 
ecrected a.d. 173, under the Emperor Marcus Aurc- 
lius, and dedicated to the worship of Jupiter, Mars, 
and Saturn. It was subsequently consecrated to the 
Virgin; but was entirely swept away at the time of 
the French Revolution. It was in this clmrch, that 
the Dukes of Burgundy swore to maintain the rights 
and privileges of the province. 

The church of Saint-Michel is distinguished by 
the French, for the richness and magnificence of its 
portal, which is said to yield, in those respects, to but 
few ecclesiastical edifices in France. It was erected 
about the middle of the eleventh century, and sub- 
sequently repaired and restored at dilferent periods. 
The architect of the present building was a native of 
Dijon, and is said, to have been a friend and pupil of 
the celebrated Michael Angelo. The general effect of 
tlie interior is, however, described as heavy and dis- 
pleasing; and the whole edifice is, perhaps, more 
curious than beautiful. 

At a short distance from the town of Dijon, there 
formerly stood a celebrated Chartreuse, or monastery 
of Carthusians, where the ashes of several Dukes of 
Burgundy were deposited. The tnausolea which 
ctmtained them, are said to have been among the 
most beautiful monuments of art existing in France; 
but they were demolished during the Revolution. 

Dijon is remarkable for the number of eminent 
men which it has produced. It was the birth-place 
of Bossuet, Crebillon, Piron, and many other distin- 
guished characters. It has, however, greatly declined 
in importance from its former state, and its popu- 
lation is now much less than it was two centuries ago. 


About fifteen years ago, there resided in the city of 
Smyrna two tanners, the cue, named Mustapha, a native 
of the island of Mitylene, a Turk by birth and religion, 
but speaking the Greek language ; the other, a Greek of 
Athens, and a Christian. 

The Turk, who was frequent in his visits to his neigh- 
bour's shop, was much struck with the manner of Califor- 
nius, an open-hearted boy of lourteen, whom he occasionallv 
found reading. 

" Wliat book is that ?" one day inquired Mustaplia 
" My Ketab," replied the boy, meaning the Holy Scriu- 
tuies, which had been given him a short time before. 

The Turk requested Californius to read a portion to him. 
" Not so," replied the boy. " If," added he, with his usual 
simplicity, " you were a Christian, the case would indeed be 
different. ' 

Tlie Turk rose and left the shop ; but scarcely was he 
out of sight before Demetrius, the elder Greek, fell upon 
his brother, upbraiding him for his inconsiderate answer. — 
" What have you done ? ' exclaimed he ; " how could you 
speak to the Turk of becoming a Christian ? Do you not 
know tliat ho can inform against us? We sh.ill then be 
both sent to prison, our property will be seized, and, perhaps, 
even death may be the consetiuence of your rashness." 

The poor boy began to weep bitterly, for his brother s 
fears were but too well groiuided; the tyrannical law of 
Turkey having made it a crime for a Christian even to 
speak of his religion to a Mohammedan, and to name bis 
conversion, a capital offence. 

In a few moments the Turk re-entered ; he insisted on 
knowing the cause of bis favourite's tears, and, on hi* 




brother's leaving the shop, Californius confessed the whole. 
— " By all that is holj'," said Mustapha, " I swear that I 
will not inform against you ; only read to me a part of 
your Ketab." The boy complied, and the Turk listened 
with the most profound attention. 

From this time, Mustapha, watching from his window 
the departure of Demetrius, would repair to the young 
Christian for furthor information. Four months passed in 
tliis manner, during which the word of God found its way 
into the heart of the Turk, who resolved to abjui'e the false 
faith of Mohammedanism, and embrace the Christian 
religion. With this \iew, he disposed of his business, and 
repaired to a Greek priest at Smyrna, to whom he made 
known his desire to be baptized. 

But so rare and remarkable a circumstance is it for a 
Turk to embrace Christianity, that the priest looked 
upon the application as a snare, to betray him to death, 
and earnestly besought the Turk to leave him. Mustapha 
applied to another, but was dismissed with the same 
entreaty, " for Gotl's sake leave me." 

Distressed and mortified at this unexpected cheek, the 
mind of Mustapha almost sunk in despair. One resource 
alone remained, — the monks of Mount Athos. To them 
he repaired ; but, though their body is numerous, they, 
every one, like the priests at Smyrna, refused to give ear 
to his entreaties. Knowing the jealousy with which the 
Turks eyed their order, they deemed it necessary to observe 
a greater degree of caution against any arts which might 
be practised upon them by the Mohammedans. 

Dismissed from the convent as a hypocrite, Mustapha 
resolved to apply to the hermits who inhabit the caves and 
grottoes of Mount Athos, and are, in some degree, dependent 
on the convent. With this intention he entered the 
dismal habitation of an aged recluse, to whom he made 
known the circumstances of his conversion, and the recep- 
tion he had experienced from the Christian priests, to he had applied for baptism. The venerable old man 
was rauQh affected, but, fearing to offend the monks, would 
l>ot venture to perform the rite, perhaps, also, entertaining 
fomc doubt as to the Turk's sincerity. Again rebuffed, he 
bent his steps towards the brow of the mountain with a 
heavy heart. 

A young priest, who happened to be «ith the recluse, 
offered to conduct him through the wood, and employed 
every means of comforting him, but Mustapha refused to 
listen, and burst into an agony of tears. The priest's 
heart melted at the sight. — " lily dear friend," said he, 
" have you then, in truth, a sincere desire to become a 
Christian ? " " Do not these tears show you the fervency 
of my wishes?" exclaimed Mustapha. 

" Then follow me," said the priest ; " here is a cave 
which will afford you shelter ; remain here, and I will 
daily bring you food, and converse with you on the nature 
of Christianity." Mustapha remained several months in 
this grotto, and the young priest daily brought him food, 
as well as spiritual comfort. 

In the mean while, the old hermit, who had been much 
struck with the fervour of the Turk's manner, not unfre- 
quently reproached himself for sending him away with so 
much seeming indifference. He one day named his regret 
to the young priest, and expressed a wish to see the Turk 
once more. Tlie priest smiled, and offered to conduct him 
to the place of his concealment. The meeting was one 
of mutual gratification, and Mustapha's admission into the 
Christian church took place a few days after. 

He continued to reside with his friends on Mount 
Athos, for several years, but his ardent spirit would not let 
him rest here. He had an aged mother, and a brother 
at Mitylene, and his soul thirsted to bring them to the 
knowledge of the true faith. After duly considering the 
risk he might run, he left his peaceful and secure retreat, 
and tcx)k shipping for Cydonia. 

Tliis flourishing city is chieHy inhabited by Greeks, at 
least, prior to the revolution, there were but few Turks 
there, except such as held official situations. One of 
these, recognising the new convert, by a scar on his fore- 
head, ordered the vessel, which was on the point of 
putting off for Mitylene, to be seized, and the Turk to be 
iirouglit Iwfore a magistJ'ate. Without hesitation, Mus- 
tapha acknowledged himself a Christian, and declared his 
determination to die rather than renounce his faith. The 
magistrate commanded hira to be taken to prison, and 
placed on the rack; but, under the most agonizing torments, 
Mustapha continued firm. 
This circutastance soon became known in the town, 

and caused a great sensation among the Christians. 
A Greek, named Georgius, who had an academy at the 
place, immediately assembled the scholars of his first 
class, consisting of youths of about twenty years of age, 
and related to them the melancholy fate of the Turk, and 
called upon them to offer up supplications in his behalf. 
" But it is not enough that we pray for him," continued 
Georgius, " we must also endeavour to visit him in prison, 
to comfort and console him. Which of you will adventure 
his life in this undertaking ?" 

"I, I," re-echoed from all sides, and a contest arose 
among the lads for the honour of this dangerous enterprise. 
John Skonzes, a young Athenian, at length claimed the 
preference, a countryman of his having been the first 
instrument, under Divine Providence, which led to the 
prisoner's conversion. To him, therefore, the others yielded, 
and the following stratagem was resorted to, to gain ad- 
mission into the prison. Skonzes disguised himself as a 
"bricklayer, and took the road to Magnesia : while a Greek 
of the same trade, went to the magistrate, and charged 
his apprentice with having decamped to Magnesia, with 
a sum of money. Pursuit was instantly made. Skonzes 
was arrested, and sentenced to confinement in the same 
prison as the Turk, it being the only one in the city. 

But what were the feelings of Skonzes when he beheld 
the unfortunate Turk. Exhausted from the tortures of 
the rack, Mustapha lay with his feet suspended by a rope 
from the ceiling, and his head dragging on the ground. In 
this condition he was to remain, till he should renounce 
Christianity. With dilTiculty Skonzes suppressed his 
compassion and his indignation, hut he kept quiet till mid- 
night, when, watching the other prisoners till they fell 
asleep, he stole softly to the Turk, sought to comfort him, 
and assured him of the cordial sympathy of his fellow 
Christians, and that their compassion for his fate, had been 
the motive of his seeking imprisonment. 

" I thank you for your love towards me," replied the 
martyr, " but praised be God, I stand in need of no encou- 
ragement. I shall continue faithful to the end." 

In a few days, Mustapha was conveyed to Constanti- 
nople. Rewards and allurements were held out on every 
side ; liberty, riches, and a lovely bride were promised, on 
the only condition that he should return to the Mohammedan 
faith. But in vain. Tortures, still more excruciating than 
those which he had endured at Cydonia were resorted to, 
but they, too, were unable to shake his Christian confidence. 
He was then sentenced to be beheaded, and the same 
Almighty power that had sustained his spirit on the rack, 
was with him in his hour of need. 

This story was related to M. Fengcr, a Danish mis- 
sionary from Copenhagen, by a Greek of Smyrna, one 
of the scholars at Cydonia, who was fully acquainted 
with all the circumstances of Mustapha's untimely fate. 


11. The Copper Mines of Cornwall. 

In our account of the Botallack Mine, CVol. III., 
page 1 78,) we slightly noticed the history of the art 
of mining; in the present paper, we shall describe 
more fully the mode of procuring the ore, and the 
means employed to prepare it for the market. 

Rocks of most kinds are traversed in every direction 
by cracks or fissures, having, in many instances, 
the appearance of those formed in clay and mud, 
while gradually becoming dry during hot-weather. 
These fissures are in general filled with substances 
formed of materials differing from the rocks in 
which they are situated. When they contain 
minerals, partly composed of any kind of metal, they 
are called metallic veins, lodes, or courses. Metallic 
veins are only found in what are called the primitive 
rocks, as granite and slate, and in general, their 
course is from East to West. A vein seldom 
consists of metal in a pure and malleable state, 
on the contrary, it is almost always found in 
chemical combination with other substances; in 
this state it is called an ore, and the metal is 
separated from it, by a process called smelting. 
The thickness, extent, and direction of a vein of 




TFehruary I 


metal, depends on many circumstances ; in general, 
its course downwards is in a slanting direction, more 
or less inclined; if it continues in a straight line, 
and of a uniform thickness, it is called a rake (1 ) ; if it 
occasionally swells out in places, and again contracts, 
it is termed a /j/fJe-rein (2), and the wider parts of the 
vein are called_^oors (3, 3) ; sometimes the vein divides 
itself into two branches, and it is then said to take 
horse (4) ; in other cases, a cross-vein will interfere with 
it, and heave or lift it, as it were, from ten to twenty 
feet out of its course (5). At times it will be reduced 
to a mere thread, and at last, become completely 
obliterated, appearing again at a distance (6). In many 
of these cases, it is easy to perceive how difficult the 
task of the miner must be, in tracing these precious 
deposits through their rocky labyrinths. 

s 4 3 


The mines of Cornwall are generally worked by 
a company of proprietors, called adventurers, who 
agree with the owner of the land, or lord of the 
soil, as he is usually called, to work the mine for 
a certain number of years, paying him, by way of 
rent, a proportion of the ores raised, or an equivalent 
in money. The grant thus made to the adventurers, 
is called a set, and the lord's rent, if paid in ore, is 
said to be the lord's dish; if paid in money, his dues. 
The adventurers divide their undertaking into shares 
of different magnitude, the smallest usually held. 

being one sixty-fourth part. Any part of the con- 
cern held by one person, is called a dole, and its 
value is known, by its being denominated an eighth- ~ 
dole, a sixteenth-dole, &c. The bounds or limits of a 
mine, are marked on the surface by masses of stone 
pitched at equal distances, but the property of the 
soil above, is entirely distinct from that of the mine 
beneath it ; the miner, however, has the privilege of 
making openings or shafts at stated intervals, for the 
purpose of raising the ore, and admitting air to the 
works. In opening a new mine, considerable know- 
ledge of the country, and of the most likely situation 
of the metallic veins, is of course necessary, to avoid 
the chance of useless labour; for it is very seldom, 
that the first portion of a vein containing metal, 
is fallen in with at a less depth than thirty fathoms, 
or one hundred and eighty feet from the surface. 

The spot for commencing operations having been 
selected, a perpendicular pit, or shaft, is sunk, and at 
the depth of about sixty feet, a horizontal gallery, or 
level, is cut in the lode by two sets of miners, 
working in opposite directions ; the ore and materials 
being raised in the first instance by a common 
windlass. As soon as the two sets of miners have cut, 
or driven, the level about 100 yards, they find it 
impossible to proceed, for want of air: this being 
anticipated, two other sets of men have been sink- 
ing from the surface two other perpendicular shafts, 
to meet them, from these the ores and materials may 
also be raised. By thus sinking perpendicukir 
shafts a hundred yards from each other, the first 
level or gallery may be carried to any extent. 
While this horizontal work is going on, the original, 
or, as it is termed, the engine-shaft, is sunk deeper; 
and at a second depth of sixty feet, a second hori- 
zontal gallery or level is driven in the same direction 
as the first, and the perpendicular shafts are all succes- 
sively sunk down to meet it; in this manner, galleries 
continue to be formed at different depths, as long 
as the state of the lode renders the labour profitable. 

The engine-shaft in the mean time, is always con- 
tinued to a greater depth than the lowest level, for the 

18.5 1.] 



purpose of keeping the working-shafts free from water. 
Tlie object of these perpendicular shafts, is not so 
much to get at the ores which are directly procured 
from them, as to put the lode into a state capable of 
being worked by a number of men; in short, to make 
it what is termed a mine. It is evident, that the 
shafts and galleries divide the rock into solid, right- 
angled masses, each three hundred feet in length, 
and sixty in height. These masses of three hundred 
feet, are again subdivided by small perpendicular 
shafts, into three parts, and by this arrangement, 
the rock is finally divided into masses called pitches, 
each sixty feet in height, and about one hundred 
feet in length. 

In the Cornish mines, the sinking the shafts, and 
driving the levels, is paid by what is termed lut-work, 
or task-work, that is, so much per fathom ; in 
addition to this, the miners receive a small per- 
centage on the ores, in order to induce them to keep 
the valuable portions as separate as possible from 
the deads, or rocky parts of the mass. 

In addition to these horizontal and perpendicular 
shafts, another description of gallery is formed, 
called an adit ; the use of this shaft is to drain the 
water from the lower part of the mine. Where 
tlie mine is formed in an exposed rock, as is the 
case with the Botallack mine, the adit can carry off 
the water, without the aid of machinery, as long 
as the lowest shaft is above the level of the sea; 
but when the shafts are sunk below that level, or 
that of the adit itself, recourse must be had to 
the assistance of steam-engines, to pump up the 
drainage to a sufficient height. The great Cornish 
adit, which commences in a valley above Carnon, 
receives branches from fifty different mines in the 
parish of Gwennap, forming, altogether, an exca- 
vation nearly thirty miles in length. The longest 
continued branch, is from Cardrew mine, five and a 
half miles in length; this stupendous drain empties 
itself into Falmouth harbour. 

The lode, when divided as above described, is open 
to the inspection of all the neighbouring miners in 
the country, and each mass or compartment is let 
by public competition for two months, to two or 
four miners, who may work it as they choose. 
These men undertake to break the ores, and raise 
them to the surface, or as it is termed to grass, and 
pay for the whole process of dressing the ores, that 
is, preparing them for market. The men by whom 
the mines are worked in this manner, are called 
tributers, and their share of the value of the ore, 
which varies according to its richness in metal, is 
named tribute. This tribute is paid over to them every 
week, the mineral being disposed of at a ticketing, 
or weekly sale. In addition to the working miners, 
a set of men, whose experience entitles them to the 
office, are engaged at a stated salary, to act as over- 
lookers, and direct the labours of the rest; those 
whose business lies in the mines, are called under- 
ground captains, and those employed above ground, 
grass captains. 

The weekly produce of the mine being made up 
by the tributers, into heaps of about one hundred 
tons each, samples, or little bags from each heap, 
are sent to the agents for the different copper- 
companies. The agents take these to the Cornish 
assayers, a set of men, who (strange to relate) 
are destitute of the most distant notion of the 
theories of chemistry or metallurgy, but who, 
nevertheless, can practically determine, with great 
accuracy, the value of each sample of ore. As soon 
as the agents have been informed of the assay, they 
determine how much a ton they will offer for each 

heap of ore, at the weekly ticketing. At this 
meeting, all the mine-agents, as well as the agents 
for the several copper-companies, attend, and it is 
singular to see the whole of the ores, amounting to 
several thousand tons, sold without the utterance of 
one single word. The agents for the copper-com- 
panies, seated at a long table, hand up individually 
to the chairman, a ticket or tender, stating what sum 
per ton they offer for each heap. As soon as every 
man has delivered his ticket, they are all ordered to 
be printed together, in a tabular form. The largest 
sum offered for each heap, is distinguislied by a line 
drawn under it in the table, and the agent who has 
made this offer, is the purchaser. 

In order to prepare copper-ores for market, the 
first process is to throw aside the rubbish with which 
they are unavoidably mixed ; this task is performed 
by children. The largest fragments of ore are then 
cobbed, or broken into smaller pieces, by women, and, 
after being again picked, they are given to what the 
Cornish miners term maidens, that is girls from six- 
teen to nineteen years of age. These maidens buck 
the ores, that is, with a bucking iron, or flat hammer, 
they break them into pieces not exceeding in size the 
top of the finger. 

The richer parts of the ore, which are more easily 
broken, are now crushed smaller in a kind of mill, 
the interior arrangement of which is shown in the 
diagram. The coarser portions, which are the 


hardest, are bruised in a stamping mill, by means of 
heavy weights, or hammers, which are hfted by ma- 
chinery, and allowed to fall upon the ore, a stream 
of water constantly passing through the mass, and 

I'nniwG MArrtvR^ 



[February 1 

washing away the portion which is bruised suffi- 
ciently small to pass through an iron plate, pierced 
with holes, and forming one side of the box in which 
the stampers work. 

The next operation is that of jigging, this used to 
be performed entirely by boys, and consists in shaking 
a quantity of bruised ore in a kind of sieve, with an 
iron bottom to it, while under water. This occasions 
the heavier parts, which consist almost entirely of 
metal, to sink to the bottom; while the earthy matter 
is washed away, and the small fragments of stone, 
being lighter than the metal, and containing little or 
no ore, are left on the surface in the sieve : these 
are carefully skimmed off with the hand, and the 
remainder is piled up in heaps for sale. This process 
has been much improved in the works of the Fowey 
Consols Mines, near St. Blazey, where the more 
uniform action of the machinery represented at the 
head of this article, is employed in a part of the 
operation. The engraving at the foot of the last 
column, is an enlarged view of one of these im- 
proved jigging-machines. In this case the con- 
tents of five sieves at once are subjected to the 
action of water which is forced up through their 
perforations, by a plunger which is alternately raised 
and lowered violently into the water contained in 
the vessel a, beneath the platform, and immediately 
under the sieves. 

In our first paper, we described the commencement 
of a miner's day, in the words of a writer in the Quar- 
terly Review, and we caiuiot do better than employ 
his description of the return of these hardy labourers 
to the light. " But it is time the underground captains 
should come to grass, and that the whole body of 
subterraneous labourers should be released; and 
those who have attended to their labours through the 
day, will scarcely regret to see them rising out of 
the earth, and issuing in crowds from the different 
holes or shafts around — hot — dirty — jaded; each 
with the remainder of his bunch of candles attached 
to his flannel garb. As soon as the men come to 
grass, they repair to the engine-house, where they 
generally leave their underground clothes to dry, wash 
themselves in the engine-pool, and put on their 
clothes, which are always exceedingly decent. By 
this time the maidens and httle boys have also washed 
their faces, and the whole party, frequently upwards 
of two thousand strong, migrate across the field in 
groups, and in different directions to their respective 
homes. Generally speaking, they now look so clean 
and frash, and seem so happy, that one would 
scarcely fancy they had worked all day in darkness 
and confinement. The old men, however, tired with 
their work, and sick of the follies and vagaries of 
the outside and inside of this mining world, plod 
their way in sober silence, probably thinking of their 
supper. The younger » men proceed talking and 
laughing, and where the grass is good, they sometimes 
stop ond wrestle. The big boys generally advance 
by playing at leap-frog, and the little ones run on 
before, to gain time to stand on their heads. As the 
different members of the group approach their re- 
spective cottages, their numbers of course diminish ; 
and the individual who lives farthest from the mines, 
like the solitary survivor of a large family, performs 
the last few yards of his journsy by himself." 

The Sunday is kept with great attention. The 
mining community, male and female, are remarkably 
well dressed ; and, as they come from the church, 
there is certainly no labouring class in England 
at all equal to them in appearance, for they are 
generally good-looking ; working away from sun and 
wind, their complexions are never weather- beaten. 

and often ruddy ; they are naturally a cheerful 
people, and, after passing so many hours in subter- 
ranean darkness, they may well hail with delight 
the sunshine of the returning sabbath, and the sound 
of the bell by which they are summoned to seek 
rost and comfort in the temple of their God^ 


The people of Thibet instead of burying or burning tlie 
bodies of the dead, throw them into a walled enclosure, 
that they may be devoured by birds of prey ; but they 
hold an annual festival in honour of the deceased, wl-.ich is 
thus described by Captain Turner. 

On the 29th of October, as soon as evening drew on, and 
it became dark, a general illumination was displayed uiwn 
the summits of all the buildings in the monastery of Teshoo 
Looraboo, close to which was the Golgotha, if I may so call 
it, to which they convey their dead ; the tops also of the 
houses upon the plain, as well as in the most distant 
villages, scattered among the clusters of willo\*s, were in 
the same manner lighted up with lamps, exhibiting alto- 
gether, a brilliant and splendid spectacle. The night was 
dark, the weather calm, and the lights burned with a 
clear and steady flame. The Thibetians reckon these cir- 
cumstances of the first importance, as , on the contrary, 
they deem it a most evil omen, if the weather be stormy, 
and their lights extinguished by the wind or rain. 

It is worthy of notice, how materially an effect depends 
upon a previously-declared design, and how opposite the 
emotions may be, although produced by apjiearances 
exactly similar. In England, I had been accustomed to 
esteem general illuminations as the strongest expression 
of public joy ; I now saw them exhibited as a solemn token 
of melancholy remembrance, an awful tribute of respect 
paid to the innumerable generations of the dead. The 
darkness of the night, the profound tranqviillity and silence, 
interrupted only by the deep and slowly-repeated tones of 
the nowbtit, trumpet, gong, and cymbal, at different inter- 
vals ; the tolling of bells, and the loud monotonous repetition 
of sentences of prayer, sometimes heard when the instru- 
ments were silent ; were all so calculated, by their 
solemnity, to produce serious reflection, that I really believe 
no human ceremony could have been contrived more effec- 
tually to impress the mind with sentiments of awe. In 
addition to this external token of solemn retrospect, acts of 
beneficence performed during this festival, are supposed tx> 
have peculiar merit, and all persons are called upon, accord- 
ing to their ability, to distribute alms, and to feed the 
poor. Turner's Embassy to Thibet. 

Maternal Courage. — As we passed through the streets 
of Nazareth, loud screams, as of a person frantic with rage 
and grief, drew our attention towards a miserable hovel, 
whence we perceived a woman issuing hastily, with a 
cradle, containing an infant. Having placed the child 
upon the area before her dwelling, she as quickly ran back 
again ; we then perceived her beating something violently, 
all the while filling the air with the most piercing shrieks. 
Running to see what was the cause of her cries, we 
observed an enormous serpent, which she had found near 
her infant, and had completely despatched before our ar- 
rival. Never were maternal feelings more strikingly por- 
trayed than in the countenance of this woman. Not 
satisfied with having killed the animal, she continued her 
blows until she had reduced it to atoms, unheeding any 
thing that was said to her, and only abstracting her attention 
from its mangled body, to rest, occasionally, a wild and 
momentary glance towards her child. Dr. E. D. Clarke. 

Dr. Johnson was exceedingly disposed to the general 
irvdulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and 
ceremoniously attentive not to oft'end them. He was, Iww- 
ever, full of indignation against such parents as delight to 
produce their young ones too early into the talking wont), 
and was known to give a good deal of pain by refusing to 
hear the verses that children could recite, or tlie songs thev 
could sing ; particularly to one friend, who told him that 
his two sons should repeat Gray's Elegy to him alternately, 
that he might judge who had the happiest cadence. " No, 
pray, sir," said he, "let the little dears both speak it at 
once ; more noise will by that means be made, and th« 
noise will be sooner over."- 





our road to Baladova, we passed several pits, wherein 

be Tartars dig that kind of fullers' earth called keff-kil, 

mineral froth, named by the Germans meerschaum. 

lis substance, before the capture of the Crimea, was a 

onsiderable article of commerce with Constantinople. It 

'is often sold to German merchants for the manufacture of 

those beautiful tobacco-pipes, bearing the name of ecume 

de mer among the French, and selling at enormous prices, 

even in our own country, after they have been long used, 

and thereby stained by the oil of tobac o. 

The process necessary to the i)erfeclion of one of these 
pipes, with all its attendant circumstances, is really a 
curious subject. Since the interruption of commerce 
between the Crimea and Turkey, the clay requisite in their 
manufacture has been dug near the site of the antient 
Iconium, in Anatolia. The first rude form is given to 
the pipes upon the spot where the mineral is found ; here 
they are pressed within a mould, and laid in the sun to 
harden ; afterwards they are baked in an oven, boiled in 
milk, and rubbed with soft leather. In this state they go 
to Constantinople, where there is a peculiar bazar, or khan, 
for the sale of them ; they are then bought up by mer- 
cliants, and sent by caravans to Pest, in Hungary. 

Still the form of the pipe is large and rude. At Pest, a 
manufacturer begins to fit them for the German markets. 
They are there soaked for twenty-four hours in water, and 
then turned by a lathe. In this process, many of them, 
proving porous, are rejected. Sometimes only two or three 
out of ten are deemed worthy of further labour. From 
Pest they are conveyed to Vienna, and frequently mounted 
in silver. After this they are carried to the fairs of Leipsic, 
Franclbrt, Manheira, and other towns upon the Rhine, 
where the best sell from three to five, and even seven 
pounds sterling each. When the oil of tobacco, after long 
smoking, has given them a fine porcelain yellow, or, which 
is more prized, a dark tortoise-shell hue, they have been 
known to sell for forty or fifty pounds of our money. 

Their manner of digging keff-kil in the Crimea, is 
merely by opening a shaft in the ground, and then working 
till the sides begin to fall in ; this soon happens, from the 
nature of the soil, when they open a new pit. A stratum 
of marl generally covers the keff-kil ; through this they 
nave to dig, sometimes to the depth of from eight to 
twelve fathoms. The layer of keff-kil seldom exceeds 
twenty-eight inches in thickness, and beneath it the marl 
occurs as betbre. Dr. E. D. Clarke. 

We should esteem virtue, though in a foe, and abhor vice, 
though in a friend Addison. 

Co.xsciEVCE. — In the commission of evil, fear no man so 
much as thyself: another is but one witness against thee; 
thou art a thousand: another thou mayest avoid; thyself 
thou canst not. Wickedness is its own punishment. 


In a former number, we inserted some lines, entitled " JIopk," as 
th« production of Hisiiop Hlbkh, to whom they are attributed by 
mistake, in his life, by his widow. We have since ascertained, that 
they were written by Ciiauncy IIahe Townsiienu, Kpq. ; and, in 
doing ju'itice to tlie author, by repeating them accordinj; to his 
corrected copy, we are sure that the beauty of the poetry will excuse 
us to our readers. 


Rkflkcted in the lake, I love 

To see the star of evening glow; 
So tranquil in the Ucav'n above. 

So restless on the wave below. 
Thus heavenly hope is all serene ; 

But earthly hope, how bright socer. 
Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene. 

As false and fleeting as 'tis fair. 

\Vj !iave also fH;en iVvourcd with the folK>wing pleasing stanz.ts by 
Jic same writer. 


TiPP o by the sun ^ "merging beams. 

How bright the village «')ire ; 
Contrasted with yon cloud, iv spoms 

A lamp of living fire. 

So shines thy sun of mercy, Lord, 

Atlliction to illume. 
Reflected from thy holy word, • 

'When all beside is gloom. 

IV. 'Wgden. 

Although the name of 'Woden is more celebrated 
than that of any other of the Saxon Idols, we know 
of very Httle that can be set down with certainty 
respecting his real history. By some writers he is con- 
sidered to have been a personage of very high anti- 
quity, and connected with Buddha, the Indian deity; 
by others he is supposed to be the same person as the 
famous Odin of the Danes and Norwegians, in whose 
rude and ancient verses he makes a striking figure. 
Our own poet. Gray, also composed a wild and 
beautiful ode, called The Descent of Odin. 

The tradition is, that Odin was a. Scythian prince, 
who, about seventy years before the Christian period, 
conquered the Northern nations, made great changes 
in their government, manners, and religion ; and, after 
receiving much honour diuring life, was, at his death, 
placed among the gods. His praises, as sounded 
in the chronicles of the north, are marked with all the 
unbounded folly of idolatrous times. They speak of 
him as the most eloquent and ingenious of men ; they 
assign to him the introduction of the art of poetry 
among the Scandinavians, as well as the invention 
of the Runic characters*. He was styled the father 
of letters and the king of spells. He also made his 
followers believe, that he could run over the world 
in the twinkling of an eye : that he had the direction 
of the air and storms ; that he could take all sorts 
of shapes, raise the dead, foretel things to come; 
deprive his enemies, by magic, of health and strength, 
and find at pleasure all the riches hidden in the 
earth. They add, that by his sweet musical strains, 
he could move the hills, and call up ghosts to stand 
motionless about him. He was equally awful in 
battle, changing himself, as it was pretended, into the 
form of a bear, a wild bull, a lion, or a snake, and thus 
making fearful havoc among his foes, without receiv- 
ing a single wound himself. 

Connected with this strange account of Woden, is 
the legend of The Fatal Sisters, which was the 
origin of Gray's poem bearing that title. 

" On Christmas morning, somewhere in Scotland, in _ 
the eleventh century, a number of persons were seen 
on horseback, riding at full speed towards a hill, and 
seeming to enter into it. Curiosity led the spectator 
to the spot; when looking through an opening in 
the rocks, he saw twelve gigantic figures, resembling 
women: they were all employed about a loom; and 
as they wove, they sung a song of war, in which, 
each had her part allotted to her ia a coming battle. 
The fight took place that very day, and in it a king 
was slain. When they had woven ' the crimson 
web of war,' they tore it into twelve pieces, and 
(e'ach taking her portion,) galloped, six to the north, 
and six to the south. These were Valkyriur, female 
divinities, servants of Odin (or Woden.) Their name 
signifies Choosers of the Slain. They were mounted 
on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands : 
and ill the throrg of battle, picked out stich as were 
destined to slaughter, and carried them, after death, to 
Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or Paradise of the Brave, 
where they attended the banquet, and served the 
dejjarted heroes with cups of horn full of mead t 
and ale." The following stanzas afford a specimen 
of the poem : — 

* Ruxic is a term applied to the letters of the ancient tiorthern 
nations. Some authors have derived it from an old Ootliic word, 
RUNF, ti* cut ; others from nvN,<i furrow, or kkn, a i^uttar or cluiuiiel. 
As the Runic ciiaiacters were first cut in wood or on rocks, tins is a 
reasonable derivation. Again, as they were supptised to convev 
magical effects, and were good or bad, expressing weal op woe, as 
circumstances might be, the word has sometimes been derived tioui 
UYNE, art or mtii^ic. 
I t MhAD, a Saxon word ; a drink made of honey and water. 

Horror covers all the heath. 
Clouds of cariiHgeUlot the sun; 

Sisters! weave the wohol ik^ath: 
Sisters'. ceii>e; the work is done. 


Ere the ruddy sun be set, 

rikes muni shiver, javelins sing; 
Jilailc with claili'iinR buckler iiieel. 

Hauberk crash, aid helmet ring. 

Ver^tepan's description of the idol is as fcjUows: " Tlie 
next was tlie idol 35Elot>fH, who, as by his picture here set 
down, was made armed, and amonir our Saxon ancestors, 
esteemed and honoured ii)r their fjod of battle, according as 
the Romans reputed and honoureil their god Mars." [The 
Romans, however, seem sometinies to have called him 
Mercury: and Wednesday is at this day written in Latin, 
Dies Merciirii, or Mcrcuru's d<ty. But the character they 
pive him, is like that of Alars, warlike and ferocious; and 
he may justly be compared to the Mars of the Romans.] 

" He was, while he lived among them, a most valiant 
and victorious prince and captain ; and this idol was, after 
his death, honoured, prayed, and sacrificed unto, that by 
his aid, they might obtain victory over their enemies, 
which, when they had obtained, they sacrificed unto him 
such prisoners, as in battle they had taken. 


[Fkiiru.vby 1 , iy34. 

The name ^jdotlcit, sigftifies ^ercr, or furious; and in 
like sense we yet retain it, saying, when one is in a great 
rage, that he is WHootJ, or taketh on as if ho were wood. 
And after tliis idol, we do yet call that day of the week, 
Wednesday, in.stead of Wodnesday, upon which he was 
cliielly honoured. In sundry places, the Pagan Saxons 
erected idols, especially Woden ; which places do yet in 
England, retain their appellation ; asatWooDNESBOROUGH, 
in Kent, Wednkshurv, and Wednesfield, in Stafford- 

In the first of the places thus pointed out, (Wood- 
nesborough, pronounced Winsborough, near Sand- 
wich, an image of Woden is supposed to have stood. 
Tliis village is remarkable for an ancient artificial 
mound, of considerable height, under which some 
curious remains, seemingly Roman, were discovered. 

In continuing the notices of these strange abomi- 
nations, we find the subject embracing some curious 
matter rcsiiecting our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, which 
we tnist will be interesting to our readers. In addi- 
tion to this, gratitude must be excited in the mind, at 
the present day, on looking back to the awful state of 

• thraldom in which the minds of Britons were once 
held, by a horrible and degrading superstition, and 
from which they are happily delivered by God s ines- 
timable gift to man, — the Go.--pel of purity and peace. 

CI!AU.M)K, HY WiMiiiu.i. M. PnAii., Kso 

Uncocih was 1 of lace anil foim, 

Hut strong to blast and blight. 
By iK'Stilence and ihunder-slorm. 

By famine and by fight; 
Not a warrior went to the battle-plain. 

Not a pilot steered the ship, 
1'hat did not kiok in toil and pain. 
For an omen of havoc and hurricane, 

'Jo my dripping brow and lip. 

Within my Second's dark recess. 

In silent pomp I dwelt ; 
Before the mouth in lowliness, 

My rude adorer knelt ; 
And ever the shriek ran loud within, 

And ever the red blood ran ; 
And amid the sin, and smoke, and din, 
I sat with changeless, endless grin. 

Forging my First for man ! 

My priests are rotting in their grave. 

My shrine is silent now ; 
There is no victim in my cave, 

No crown upon my brow ; 
Nothing is left but dust and clay. 

Of all that was divine ; 
My name and my memory pass away, 
But the dawn and dusk <>t" one fair day. 

Are called by mortals mine. 

[For &n answer, we refer our readers to a paper in the present Niimlwr.] 


Macqueen, the Laird of PoUochock, a small estate m the 
north of Scotland, is said to have killed the last wolf that 
infested that district, though he himself was alive within 
the last fifty years. Tradition reports him to have been 
nearer seven than six feet high, proportionably built, and 
active as a roebuck. The story told is this : — a poor 
woman, crossing the mountains with two cliildren, was 
attacked by the wolf, and her infants devoured, while she 
escaped with difiiculty to Moughall. The chief of Mack- 
intosh hearing of this, ordered his vassals to assemble the 
next day at twelve o'clock, to proceed in a body to destroy 
the wolf. PoUochock, who was one of those vassals, and 
possessed of gigantic strength and determined courage, 
was eagerly looked for to take the lead in the enterprise. 

The hour came, and all were assembled except him in 
whom they most trusted. Unwilling to go without him, 
the impatient chief fretted and fumed through the hall, 
till at length, about an hour after the appointed time, in 
stalked PoUochock, dressed in his full highland attire 
" I am little used to wait thus for any man, ' exclaimed the 
chafed chieftain, " and still less for thee, Polloclii«k, 
especially when such game is afoot as we are houiiu 
after!" " What sort o'gaine are ye after. Mackintosh?" 
said PoUochock, simply. " The wolf, sir," replied Mack- 
intosh ; " did not my messenger instruct you." " Ou, aye, 
that's true," answered PoUochock, with a good-humovrud 
smile ; " troth I had forgotten ; but, an that be all, " con- 
tinued he, groping with his right hand among the folds of 
his plaid, " there is the wolfs head !" and he held out the 
grim and bloody head of the monster at arm's length. 

" As I came through the hollow," continued he, as if 
talking of some eveiy-day occurrence, " I forgathered wi' 
tlie beast ; my long dog there turned him ; 1 buckled with 
him, and dirkit him, and brought away liis countenance, 
for fear he might come alive again, for they are very pre- 
carious creatures." " My noble PoUochock ! " cried the 
chief in ecstacy, "the deed was worthy of thee! In 
memorial of thy hardihood, I here bestow upon thee 
Scaunachau*, to give meal for thy good greyhound in all 
time coming." Sir Thomas Dick Lauder. 

* Or " the old field," a field near the land of PoUochock 

Moderation is the silken string running through the 
pearl-chain of all virtues. Bishop Hall. 




Sttlil by >U liookMlleri auU NeHweutlers iu the KiDgi'rm, 


N*^ 103. 


V Price 
? Onb Penny. 


Vol. rv. 




^February 8 


Here Science lays 
The soliii keel, and on it rears a frame 
Enduring, beautiful, magnificent. 

at last 

By thousand hands prepar'd, the finish 'd ship 

Is ready. V. T. CAnRisoxoN. 

It has been well observed, that amongst the various im- 
portant and interesting objects connected with the Navy of 
Great Britain, there is not one so much entitled to a 
foreigner's en\7, or an Englishman's admiration, as a 
Royal Dock Yard. The Arsenal and Dock-yard at Chat- 
ham, once ranked before the magnificent establishments 
of Portsmouth and Plymouth ; and whether we consider 
their situation or internal arrangement, they are admirably 
adapted for the purposes for which they are designed, and 
fully bear out the preceding assertion. 

A Dock vard was commenced here early in the reign of 
Elizabeth, near the place where the gun-wharf is now 
situated. It appears then to have consisted of one small 
dock, which, from its confined situation, and the increasing 
magnitude of the Navy, it was found necessary, in the year 
1 r>2'2, to remove to the site of the present establishment. 
During the reign of Elizabeth, the fleet usually lay in the 
river Medway, and the Queen seems to have fully appre- 
ciated the advantages of the situation, by ordering the 
erection of Upnor Castle, a fortification a little below the 
Dock-jard, on the opposite bank of the river. Within the 
mouldering towers of this structure, (which is environed by 
a moat,) a magazine of gunpowder is kept for the use of 
the navy ; guns have been mounted for its defence, 
for a considerable period. Upnor Castle has a small esta- 
blishment under the command of a Governor, who also 
commands the other forts for the defence of the Medway. 

Tiie Arsenal was constructed at the conclusion of the 
fust war with Holland, in the reign of Charles the Second, 
who also greatly improved and extended the Dock-yard. 

The most interesting passage in the history of Chatham, 
occurred during this war (16C7), at which period, Upnor 
Castle, for the only time, proved of essential service. On 
the 7lh of June, the celebrated Dutch Admiral, De Ruyter, 
suddenly appeared off the mouth of the Thames, with a 
fleet of fifty sail. After destroying the Dock-yard and fort 
at Sheerness, then in an unfinished state, he detached his 
Vice-Admiral, Van Ghent, on the 12th, with seventeen 
men-of-war of a light draught of water, and eight fire- 
ships, to destroy the Dock-yard and shipping at Chatham. 
The British government appear to have been completely 
taken by surprise ; but the instant that the intelligence 
reached London, General Monk, Duke of Albemarle, 
was despatched to Chatham, to make the best disposi- 
tions the' shortness of the time afforded, to frustrate 
tiiis bold attempt. He threw a chain across the Medway, 
and sunk several ships in the channel below it, to prevent 
the approach of the enemy; but in despite of these ob- 
stacles, and of the resistance of three large vessels, (Dutch 
prizes,) which were moored near. Van Grhent, aided by a 
strong easterly wind and spring-tide, succeeded in breaking 
the chain; when he set fire to the ships, and sailed on- 
wards up the river. On arriving opposite Upnor Castle, 
with six men-of-war and five fire-ships, the enemy, how- 
ever, met with so warm a reception from Major Scott, who 
commanded thai fortress, aided by batteries on the opposite 
sliore, that he was compelled to retreat, without effecting 
the leading object of the expedition. On his return, he 
succeeded in carrying off the hull of the Royal Charles, a 
large ship then fitting out, besides destroying three others. 
Tlie Royal Oak, one of these vessels, was commanded by 
Captain Douglas, an officer of great merit ; who, in the 
confusion of the period, not havmg received any orders to 
retreat, hopelessly defended his ship to the last extremity, 
against an overwhelming force, and perished with her. 
His last words were, It shall never be said that a Douglas 
quilted his post without orders. There have been few 
finer examples of heroism than this. Two Dutch ships 
ran ashore, and were burnt in the Medway immediately 
afterwards. Eight fire-ships were also burned, and the 
Dutch historians acknowledge a loss of 1 50 men killed. 

Soon afterwards, De Ruyter left a part of his fleet at the 
Nore, and sailed for the British Channel, making two 
attempts to destroy the shipping at Portsmouth and Torbay, 
but being repulsed, he again returned to the mouth of the 

Thames. With twenty-five sail, he then attacked the 
British fleet under Sir Edward Spragge, lying at the Hope, 
but after a severe action was again obliged to retreat. 

Chatham Dock-yard, which has been greatly improved 
and extended since the reign of Charles the Second, is 
situated on the eastern bank of the river, immediately 
below Chatham; and, including the onlnance-wharf, is 
about a mile in length. To attempt, even brielly, to describe 
the many interesting objects in this great national esta 
hlishment, would occupy several numbers of our publica 
tion ; it is, in fact, a little city of itself, intersected with 
ranges of streets of store-houses and buildings, filled with 
every necessary article, either for the construction or repair 
of a fleet. 

Amongst the objects most deserving of notice, we 
may mention the Smitheries, containing upwards of 
twenty fbrges, many of which are adapted for the construc- 
tion of anchors of the largest size, which weigh five tons, 
are moved into and out of the fire by means of cranes, and 
are of the value of 360Z. ;— the Rope-House, 1140 feet in 
length, in which cables of 120 fathoms, and 25 inches in 
circumference, are made; — large Store-House, 220 yards 
long, and the Sail-Loft, 209 feet. There are six Slips for 
building ships, and four Docks for their repair; an Ordnance- 
Wharf, on which the guns belonging to the various ships 
lying in ordinary, are systematically arran<red in immense 
tiers, the cannon-balls being arranged in pyramids ; various 
Cranes, of great power; Kilns, in which the planks neces- 
sary for curved forms, are steamed ; Pump-Houses, Saw- 
Pits, and extensive ranees of artificers' Work-Shops ; an 
Anchor-Wharf; a Mast-House, 220 feet long, and 120 wide, 
for laying up masts and yards of the largest dimensions ; 
several Ponds, where the timbers to form the masts are 
kept constantly floating ; spacious and handsome resi- 
dences for the Commissioner and principal Officers in 
the yard; in short, every requisite and convenience for 
the purposes of so vast an establishment. But, notwith- 
standing the multiplicity of movements and processes con- 
tinually going on, and the number of persons employed, 
there is no appearance of bustle or disorder; indeed, 
" such is the state of discipline and perfection by which 
every thing is conducted, that it may be regarded as a sort 
of rational machine, worked by instinctive power, and set 
in motion by superior minds ; — every man, every object, 
and each operation, seem tributary to that great floating 
citadel, and ever-changing home, a man-of-war." 

Tlie rapidity with which a Ship can be fitted out in cases 
of emergency, is a striking illustration of this. Even 
early in the last century, a first-rate of 106 guns, which' 
was ordered to be commissioned with great expedition for 
Sir Cloudesley Shovel, was completely fitted out in three 
days ; she had previously been entirely unrigged, but her 
masts were raised, yards to, sails bent, and anchors and 
cables on board, at the conclusion of that short period, 
when she was enabled to drop down the Medway. Great as 
the celerity in this instance appears, the same equipment 
could now be efi"ected in one-third less time. During the 
late war, nearly 4000 persons were employed in this 


Interesting as is a Royal Dock-yard, when riewed under 

any circumstances, it is, however, at the period of a Ship- 
Launch that it is seen to most advantage. In this sea 

girt isle, indeed, where a love of all that relates to the 
1 ocean, or to maritime affairs, seems almost a concomitant 
' of our nature, a ship-launch is a spectacle of deep interest. 
! Tlie progressive growth of a few rugged timbers into the 

stupendous floating fabric, which rides out securely the 

gale and storm, is certainly one of the most wonderful 
• instances of human skill and ingenuity. Nothing more 
1 forcibly illustrates the inestimable benefits which civiliza 

tion and science confer upon man ; and cold indeed must 
i be the heart which does not swell with gratitude, on reflcct- 
! ing upon the marvellous powers with which we have been 
! gifted, by Him who is the beneficent source of all the 
' blessings we enjoy. 

i It may not be uninteresting to premise, that when a ship 
; is laid down, or built, she is sui)ported by strong platforms 
 of oak, resting on a stone foundation, which are laid witli a 
i progressive inclination to the water, on the opposite sides 
, of her keel to which they are parallel. On the surface o. 
I this slope or declivity are placed two corresponding ranges 

of planks, which form the base of a frame, termed a cradle, 

whose upper part lies next to the bottom of the ship, to 
' which it is securely attached. Tlius the lower surface o. 

the cradle, conforming exactly to that of the frame below 




lies Hat upon it len^hways, under the opposite sides of the 
ship's bottom ; and, as the former is intended to slide 
downwards upon the latter, carrying the ship alon<5 with it, 
tiie planes or surfaces of both are well greased with tallow 
and soap. 

The necessary preparations for the launch having been 
made, all the blocks and wedges by which the ship was 
previously supported, are driven out from below her keel, 
except perhaps five or six, which are left at the upper end 
of the slip ; when her weight then gradually subsides on 
the platforms, which are accordingly called the ways 
Formerly, the blocks and wedges were all driven out, and 
the ship was then held alone by stout oak bars, shod witii 
iron, called " dog-shores, " till the proper time for launching 
(when the cradle is entirely free to move along the sliding 
planks) ; but accidents having sometimes occurred, a few 
blocks are now left, as previously stated, to check the 
vessel on her course downwards. The last operation is to 
let the dog-shores fall : the ship then hangs for a few 
seconds, in consequence of the pressure of the remaining 
blocks, and, if after a short time she does not move, the 
workmen, who are all ready, strike at these blocks, which 
the weight of the ship instantly oversets, and she glides 
downwards into the water along the sliding ways, which 
are generally prolonged under its surface to a sufhcient 
depth, to float her as soon as she reaches their furthest 

One of the finest launches ever witnessed at Chatham, 
was that of the Waterloo, a first-rate of 120 guns, 
which appropriately took place on the last anniversary of 
that glorious triumph of the British arms. On that occa- 
sion, the scene in the vicinity of the dock-yard, and on 
the broad and glistening surface of the Medwav, was 
splendid and imposing. Every spot which could command 
a view of the launch, was densely covered with masses of 
human beings ; and the river, which was crowded with 
yachts, steamers from the metropolis, and boats of almost 
every class, decked with flags and colours, seemed abso- 
lutely " instinct w ith life." As the moment drew nigh, the 
eyes of the vast congregation of spectators became rivetted 
on the stern of the Waterloo, which was the only part not 
concealed by the lofty roof of the building-slip. A slight 
agitation seemed at last to move the people ; the interest 
deepened, and the silence became profound and breathless : 
then the heavy discharge of a single gun boomed impres- 
sively on the ear — a deafening shout burst from the 
multitude — the huge structure moved ! The " shores" or 
bars which held it, had been removed, the ceremony of 
naming was performed with the accustomed formalities, 
and the magnificent Waterloo, as depicted in our en- 
graving, glided majestically into her home on the world 
of waters, amidst tlie roaring of artillery, a perfect model 
of symmetry and strength. And then the sympathies of 
the spectators were differently affected. Tiie swell pro- 
duced by the sudden plunging of so vast a body inio the 
water, was necessarily considerable ; and as the noble ship 
swung round with her formidable broadside, several boats 
were swamped, and human lives perilled. The shouting 
of the multitude was again hushed, but the excitement, 
though painful, was only transitory ; in a few minutes, the 
gigantic vessel was securely moored alongside the South- 
ampton frigate, lying in ordinary, without the occurrence of 
a single serious accident. 

The Waterloo is considered one of the most perfect 
specimens of the round-stern build, (invented by Sir 
Robert Seppings, late surveyor of the Navy,) yhich has 
yet been constructed. Her burden, per register, is 20'J3 
tons, which may fairly be computed at .3000, she is pierced 
for 120 guns, and her dimensions and weight of metal, 
correspond with those given in the description of a line-of- 
battle ship, in a preceding number of this work*. 

During the war with France, in 1758, when the country 
was threatened with an invasion, the extensive fortifications, 
called the Lines were commenced, principally with a view 
to defend the Dock-yard. The Lines are strengthened by 
ramparts, palisadoes, and a broad deep ditch, and are 
further defended by a strong redoubt on the summit of the 
hill, towards the south-east. Tliey embrace within their 
circ\imference, which extends for several miles, the whole 
of the naval establishments, the upper and lower barracks, 
the populous village of Brompton, and Chatham Church. 
The barracks are very extensive ; as independently of a 
large resident garrison of marines, this is one of the prin- 
cipal depots for troops destined for foreign service. 

• See Saturday Magazine, \'o\. III., p. 39. 

Chatham, which appears to have derived its name from 
the Saxon words cyte, a cottage, and ham, a town or 
village, has principally been built since the reign of Eliza- 
beth ; it adjoins the City of Rochester, and with Strooil, 
on the opposite side of the bridge, over the Medwav, forms 
one continuous street, of upwards of two miles in length , 
locally called the " Three Towns." 

It appears that there was an extensive Roman station 
here, as largo quantities of remains, and many Roman 
graves, were discovered in excavating ft)r the Lines. The 
excellent fund, originally called the Chest at Chatham. 
(since removed to Gi'eenwich and London,) was commenced 
by the advice of Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, 
after the defeat of the Spanish Annada in 1588, when 
Queen Elizabeth assigned a small portion of the pay of 
every seaman, for the relief of tliose who had been 
wounded or disabled in the Royal navy. An hospital was 
erected here for ten " poor decayed seamen and shiji- 
wrights," by Sir John Hawkins, under Royal Charter, in 
1592. There is also another hospital, capable of containing 
400 patients, at Chatham ; this structure is 350 feet in 
length, and was erected at a cost of 70, 000/. The population 
of the parishes of Chatham and Gillingham, according to 
the last census, amounted to 24,670. 

The celebrated Cuvier, who, by his laborious researches 
and acute reasoning, made so many important and interest- 
ing discoveries in the natural history of the earth, and 
effected, perhaps, as great a revolution in received opinions, 
as was ever brought about in any science by one man, never 
laboured in order to support a system, but always to di> 
cover the truth ; and the further he advanced, seemed th' 
more convinced that he did not know enough to enable hii.y 
to form a system. Speaking of theories in general, tn; 
said, a little before his death, " I have sought, I have set 
up some myself, but I have not made them known, because 
I have ascertained that they were false, as are all those 
which have been published up to this day. I aflirm still 
more ; for I say that, in the present state of science, it is 
not possible to discover one ; and it is for this reason that 
I persevere in my observations, and that I continue to 
publish them. This perseverance only can lead to the 
truth. We ought to labour, not with the object of sup- 
porting a theory, because then, the mind being preoccupied, 
will perceive only that which favours its own views ; our 
labours should be for the object of discovering the tmth." 
Memoirs of Cuvier. 

Pliny mentions a plane-tree, which flourished in Lycia, 
during the reigns of the Roman Caesars, which had attained 
an unusual size. From a vast stem it divided into several 
huge arms; e^ery one of which had the consequence of a 
large tree ; and, at a distance, the whole together, exhibited 
the appearance of a grove. Its branches still flourished, 
while its trunk decayed. This, in process of time, mould 
ered away into an immense cave, at least eighty feet in 
circumference; around the sides of which, were placei' 
seats of pumice stone, cushioned softly with moss. Lur'.- 
nius Mutianus, governor of Lycia, has left it on record, 
that himself and eighteen other persons could commodiousl" 
dine in this tree; he fretiuently enjoyed the company of h> 
friends there, and used to sov, it was a great luxury to dii 
in its trunk on a hot summ r's day ; and to hear a heaw 
shower of rain descending through the several stages of its 
leaves . G i Lp i n. 


That setting sun ! that setting suis'i 
What scenes, since first its race begun 
Of varied hue, its eye hath seen. 
Which are, as they had never been. 

That setting sun ! full many a gaze 
Hath dwelt upon its fading rays, 
With sweet according thoughts sublime, 
In every age, and every chme. 

'Tis sweet to mark thee sinking slow. 
The ocean's fabled caves below, 
And when th' obscuring night is done, 
To see thee rise, sweet setting sun. 

So when my pulse shall cease to play, 
Serenely close my evening ray, 
To rise again, death's slumber done, 
Glorious like thee, sweet setting sun. 




[Ff.brttary b. 


IHf CTTV or !'.\TN\ 

Patna is, in Itself, a very ancient city, though 
erected near to, if not upon the very site of, one 
still more ancient, named Pateliputra. Distant about 
four hundred miles from Calcutta, it is situated on the 
right, or southern bank of the river Ganges, and 
is the first native city of wealth or importance, which 
presents itself on the voyage towards the upper 
country. It is the chief city of the province of 
Bahar, and is very extensive and populous. 

With regard to situation, it has its advantages. 
For instance, although the province d' Bahar, in 
which it lies, immediately borders on Bengal, yet it 
is, in several points, more desirable as a place of 
residence. The seasons are, indeed, nearly the same 
in both, the hot weather commencing in the middle 
of February, and continuing to the middle of Oc- 
tober ; but as Bahar is higher above the sea, its 
climate is, in some respects, more favourable. The 
degree of heat may, indeed, be equally great, but it 
is not of that damp character, which marks the hot 
season in Bengal. This makes it somewhat less 
oppressive without the house in the day-time, whilst 
as soon as the sun has set, it is practicable there to 
go out, and enjoy the almost inexpressible pleasure 
of the evening-drive. As moreover, Patna is seated 
on an eminence, it has the advantage of being secure 
against the floods, to which, at certain seasons, that 
part of the country is exposed. 

As Patna has often been the seat of war, it is 
fortified in the Indian manner, with a wall and a 
small citadel; and though it does not contain any 
single building of great celebrity, or peculiar beauty, is 
rich in the remains of Mussulman splendour, and 
its appearance from the river is highly picturesque. 
The houses of the wealthy classes, which are nu- 
merous, are handsome buildings, flat-roofed, and sur- 
rounded by carved balustrades. Many are of con- 
siderable extent, and though exhibiting the usual 
symptoms of neglect, when seen from a distance, make 
a good appearance, 

" Patna," says Bishop Heber, " is a very great, 
and, from the water at a little distance, a very 
striking city, being full of large buildings, with 
remains of old walls and towers, and bastions, 
projecting into the river, with the advantage of a 
high rocky shore, and considerable irregularity and 
elevation of the ground behind it. We proceeded 
along this noble expanse of water, which I really 
think grows wider instead of narrower, as we ad- 
vanced, and which here, between wind and stream, 
was raised into waves little less than those which the 
Mersey sometimes exhibits below Liverpool. At 
the eastern extremity of Patna, is a large wood of 
palms and fruit-trees, pointed out to me as the 
gardens belonging to a summer-palace, built and 
planted by the Nawilb JaHier Ali Khan. They are 
renowned for their beauty and extent, being two or 
three miles in circuit. We also passed a large and 
ruined palace, which had been the residence of the 
late Nawilb of Patna, Abbas Kouli Khfi,n, a splendid 
and popular person. The houses of the rich natives 
pretty much resemble those of Calcutta; but they 
have the advantage here of being immediately on 
the banks of the river. I saw one, which, beneath 
its Corinthian superstructure, had a range of solid 
buildings of the Eastern Gothic, with pointed arches 
and small windows, containing a set of apartments 
almost on a level with the water, uninhabitable, I 
should suppose, from damp, during this season, 
(August,) but which must be coolness itself, during 
the hot winds." 

The intermixture of their residences with peepul- 
trees, broad ghauts, or landing-places, the remains 
of Gothic gateways of dark-red stone, and the nume- 
rous temples devoted to Hindoo and Mussulman 
worship, produces a striking eflFect ; and, when the 
river is full and brimming to its banks, turret, spire, 
and dome, being reflected in its broad mirror, the 
scene is exceedingly imposing. The continued mass 
of buildings extends about four miles along the 





river, when it changes into scattered cottages and 
bungalows, interspersed with trees, till some more 
large and handsome buildings appear, about three 
miles further, where is situated Bankipore. 

On entering Patna, we find that its streets can be 
traversed only on horseback, or upon an elephant, 
being too narrow to admit of any wheel-carriage 
superior to the native rlicet, which is a creaking, 
nodding, non-descript vehicle, in which the ladies ot 
the country, concealed from public view by thick 
curtains, enclose themselves when they travel or pay 
visits. The best houses face towards the river, and 
many of these have a dismal appearance on the side 
of the street, showing only a high blank wall, with 
a few small windows in the upper story. Other 
mansions are within large walled courts, and in 
passing along the principal street, many porticoes 
of houses are to be seen peeping out of recesses, or 
small quadrangles. The houses inhabited by the 
middling classes, are exceedingly crazy, and have 
.somewhat of a Chinese air, each story, as it rises, 
lessening m size, and standing in the verandah of' 
the one below. They are removed, according to the 
Indian custom, a little from the public path, which 
is crowded during the day with men and animals, 
(horses, buffaloes, bullocks, camels, and goats,) by 
being raised upon a platform about a foot high from 
the street. The houses occupy the centre of this 
platform, a margin being left all round, which some- 
♦imes stretches beyond the verandah, and forms a 
sort of counter, on which the goods of the inferior 
shop-keepers are displayed in baskets, none of the 
richer and more elegant articles being exposed to 
public view in India. 

The shops of the kukeems, or apothecaries, make 
tlie best appearance; they are furnished in the 
primitive style, with herbs of various kinds, neatly 
arranged, and reminding the stranger of the descrip- 
tions given in some of the histories of London, of 
the state of Bucklersbury, when simples formed the 
stock-in-trade of medical practitioners. Amid much 
that is unsightly, there is a great deal to admire, in 
the long line of streets which stretches from gate to 
gate of this extensive city, every few yards bringing 
some picturesque object to view; lofty open cupolas, 
in the most elegant style of mosque-architecture, 
surmounting handsome mosques, are contrasted with 
solid towers of the dark-red stone, which seems to 
have been the favourite material of former times. 
The built for the English residents, on their 
first occupation of the city, now deserted and falling 
into decay, have a singular and melancholy appear- 
ance. Their construction after the European fashion, 
shows that they were intended for foreigners; and 
their desolation recalls to the mind the tragic end 
of those who trusted themselves to a hostile race, 
then smarting under the recollection of recent defeat. 
A large piece of ground also, consecrated and con- 
verted into a Christian cemetery, spreading its grass- 
grown mounds amidst the dwellings of the heathen 
and the unbeliever, presents a more than usually 
dreary and melancholy spot. 

Those who are willing to brave the disagreeables 
of a closely-built city, may find much amusement in 
an evening's visit to Patna. The streets are crowded 
to excess, the whole male population swarming out 
to enjoy the air, or assembling in the verandahs to 
smoke their hookahs, whilst gazing on the scene 
below. Native palkees, taunjohas, and rhec.ts, force 
their way through masses of men and boys. Nothing 
in India can be done without noise, and the din of 
the passengers is increased by the cries of chokeydars 
(watchmen), and the incessant vociferations of fakeers 

(religious beggars), stationed at the comers of the 
streets. The shops are all lighted up, and as the 
evening advances, the dusky buildings, which rear 
themselves against a dark-blue sky studded with 
innumerable stars, have a solemn and striking effect ; 
much that is unseemly is obscured in deep shadow, 
and only the more prominent objects are favourably 
revealed to the eye. Patna, at this time, as.sumes a 
very imposing aspect, presenting, as it does, a suc- 
cession of temples and palaces, worthy to have been 
the abodes of the luxurious Moguls. 

The wealth of Patna is enormous; many of its 
great men are exceedingly rich. The city carries on 
an extensive trade, and is famous for its manufac- 
tories of table-linen, and wax-candles. It is, more- 
over, a grand mart for opium, that precious commodity 
which enriches so many of the native agents, who, 
as they grow wealthy, hve in a style, and assume 
the title of nawabs. It also possesses very expert 
workmen in every department of mechanical art. 
The soil is favourable to the growth of potatoes, a 
vegetable which is much cultivated for native con- 
sumption in India. 

There are portions of the suburbs of Patna which 
are exceedingly interesting, particularly the view from 
the Mussulman Cemetery, which is of considerable 
extent. This lonely burying-ground, which, with 
the exception of one season in the year, is left to 
perfect solitude, is well worthy of a visit. It is a 
large oblong square, surrounded by various buildings 
at unequal distances from each other, some being 
handsome houses, furnished with double tiers of 
verandahs, erected for the reception of guests and 
spectators, during the solemn Mohammedan festival 
of the Imaun Hoseyn Mohurrum, which takes place 
in the beginning of August, whilst others are of 
more ancient and solid construction, consisting of 
towers and gateways of dark-red stone, reliques of 
the days of Moslem glory, when the Moguls ruled 
the land down to the very mouths of the Ganges. 
This singular spot, in its tenantless seclusion, conveys 
the idea of a deserted city to the musing spectator. 
It overlooks a vast extent of country, which, during 
the rains, is covered with a number of broad lakes, 
which lose themselves in a suitable back-ground of 
deep dark forests, whilst buffaloes, animals which 
always give a wild, and even doleful appearance to 
the landscape, are seen wallowing in the marshes. 
Viewed under the crimson grandeur of the setting 
sun, the scene is most awe-inspiring; and, as the 
gloom increases, and the last red gleam dimly illu- 
mines the long square, the imagination becomes 
naturally tinged with the deepest melancholy. But 
this cemetery displays a stirring and magnificent scene 
during the annual ceremonies of the Mohurrum. 
As this is one of the chief festivals of the Moham- 
medan religion, a few words respecting it may be 

When the impostor Mohammed died, he was, we 
know, succeeded by his father-in-law Abu-bvker, 
who was followed by Omar and Othman, all to the 
exclusion of Ali, his nephew and son-in-law. This 
has led to a division of the Mohammedans into two 
great sects, the Soonies, who acknowledge the three 
former as lawful Caliphs, and the Shiahs, who assert 
the superior claims of Ali. The latter, on the death 
of Hoseyn, the son of Ali, who was slain with his 
brother Hassan, at Kerbela, a. d. 680, established 
the Mohurrum in remembrance of that event. On 
this occasion they carry about, in grand procession, 
a taboot, or kind of mausoleum, or tomb, with 
human figures in it, and highly adorned with tinsel, 
and gold and silver leaf; and for several days they 



Tebruart 8 

newail the unfortunate end of Hoseyn, beating their 
breasts, and calling on them by name, crj'ing out 
continually, Hoseyn, Hassan, Bubee Fatima, in a most 
outrageous manner. Patna is a strong-hold of 
Mohammedanism, and the disciples of the prophet 
who dwell within its walls, are most firm and zealous 
in their faith: and the riches of the city enable them 
to celebrate the rites of the young martyrs, as they 
consider the murdered brothers, in a very splendid 
manner; and this noble space is selected for the final 
depository of the taboots, or tombs, which are carried 
about by the followers of Ali, in honourable remem- 
brance of his skaghtered sons. The whole population 
of Patna, ncc merely the Moslem and Hindoo, but 
even the Christian portion of it, assemble to witness 
the pro-ession. Persons of rank are accommodated 
in the houses before mentioned, whose roofs are 
cr.owded by immense multitudes. Great respect is 
paid to the Christian spectators, not only on account 
of their influence in the country, but because it is 
believed, that persons of the Christian faith remon- 
strated against the cruel persecution of the youthful 
princes by the disciples of Omar. The whole square 
rings with shouts of Hoseyn ! Hassan! accompanied 
by deep groans and beatings of the breast, whilst, 
amid the discharge of musketry, the last scene is 
acted by groups of persons representing the comba- 
tants of that fatal battle in which Hoseyn fell. 
Whenever the venerated martyr is beaten to the 
ground, the lamentations are redoubled, and such 
is the enthusiasm which prevails, that many are 
withheld, by force alone, from inflicting desperate 
wounds upon themselves. ' Woe to any of the 
followers of Omar who should dare to intrude upon 
the mourners. The battle is then renewed in earnest; 
whole companies of Sepoys (native soldiers,) have 
been known to engage in deadly combat with each 
other, and numerous lives are lost. It requires the 
utmost vigilance of the magistrates to prevent blood 
from being shed at this festival. D. I. E. 

[Chiefly abridged from an article ia the Asiatic Journals^ 

Were the variety of tones in the human voice, peculiar 
to each person, to cease, and the hand-writing of all men to 
become perfectly uniform, a multitude of distressing decep- 
tions and perplexities would be produced in the domestic, 
civil, and commercial transactions of mankind. But the 
all-wise and beneficient Creator has prevented all siich 
evils and inconveniences, by the character of variety which 
he has impressed on the human species, and on all bis 
works. By the peculiar feotures of his countenance, every 
man may be distinguished in the light; by the tones of 
his voice he may be recognised in the dark, or when he 
is separated from' his fellows by an impenetrable partition ; 
and his hand-writing can attest his existence and indi- 
viduality, when continents and oceans interpose between 
him and his relations, and be a witness of his sentiments 
and purposes to future generations. Dick. 


In Dr. JoHNsox's Idler, is the following amusing account 
of a man, who makes wonders out of nothing. 

My friend, Will Marvel, is not one of those who go out 
and -eturn with nothing to tell. He has lately ta.kon a 
journey, and has a story of his travels, which will strike 
a home-bred citizon with horror. When he left Loudon, 
the morning was bright, and a fair day was promised. 
But Will is born to struggle with difficulties. That hap 
pened to him, which has sometimes, perhaps, happened to 
others. Before hu had gone ten miles, it began to rain. 
What course was to be taken? His soul disdained to turn 
back. He did what the King of Prussia might have done ; 
he flapped his hat ; buttoned up Ins cape, and went for 
wards ; fortifying his mind by the stoical consolation, that 
whatever is violent, will be short. 

His constancy was not long tried; at the distance of 
about half a mile, he saw an inn, which he entered, wet 
and weary, and found civil treatment, and proper refresh- 
ment. After a respite of about two hours, seeing the sky 
clear, he called for his horse, and rode on ; passing many 
pools of water, of which it was impossible to guess the 
depth, and which he cannot review without some censure 
of his own rashness : but what a man undertakes, he must 
perform, and Marvel hates a coward at his heart. 

At last, the sun set, and all the horrors of darkness came 
upon him. He then repented the weak indulgence of his 
long rest at noon : yet he went forward, sometimes rushing 
suddenly into water, ignorant whither he was going, and 
uncertain, whether his next step might not be his last. In 
this dismal uncertainty, his horse unexpectedly stood still. 
Marvel had heard much of the instincts of horses, and was 
in doubt what danger might be at hand. Sometimes he 
fancied that he was on the bank of a river, still and deep, 
and sometimes, that a dead body lay across the track. He 
sat still awhile to re-collect his thoughts ; and as he was 
about to alight, and explore the darkness, out stept a 
man with a lantern, and opened the turnpike-gate ! 

Some are much more quick-sighted to discern the faults 
and blemishes of others, than their own: can spy a Mote 
in another's eye, sooner than a Beam in their own. 

This common failing of the human nature, the Heathens 
were very sensible of; and imaged it in the following 
manner. Every man (say they) carries a wallet, or two 
satchels or bags with him ; the one hanging before him, 
and the other behind him ; into that before, he puts the 
faults of others; into that behind, his own; by which 
means, he never sees his own failings, whilst he has those 
of others always before his eyes. Now, a proper know- 
ledge of ourselves, will teach us to turn this wallet ; and 
place that part which contains our own faults, before our 
eyes, and that which contains those of others, behind our 
back. A very necessary regulation this, if we would 
behold our own faults in the same light in which they do. 
For we must not expect that others will be as blind to our 
foibles, as we ourselves are. Tliey will carry them before 
their eyes, whether we do or no. And to imagine that the 
world takes no notice of them, because we do not, is just 
as wise, as to fancy that others do not see us, because we 
shut our eyes. Mason 

There is a more than common desire, among the slaves in 

to learn to read. They flock to schools when they 

are opened, are eager to buy spelling-books, and snatch 
a lesson in reading whenever they can. It is by no means 
rare, when the people come in from the field, to see a 
tall man sitting down, and taking most docilely his lesson 
of A, B, and C, from a boy not half his length; whilst, at 
the same time, two or three full-grown persons are looking 
over the man's shoulder, to pick up what they can from 

this little master and his great pupil. Letter from a 

Gentleman in the West Indies. 

I WILL tell you, says Izaak Walton, that I have heard a 
grave Divine say, that God has two dwellings, one in 
Heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful heart. 
Endeavour to be honestly rich, or contentedly poor ; but be 
sure that your riches be justly got, or you spoil all. 

Christopher Viscount Hatton was Governor of 
Guernsey, in 1672, and, with his family in Cornet Castle 
there, was blown up, in consequence of the powder 
magazine being struck with lightning at midnight. He 
was in bed, and was blown out of the window, and lay 
some time on the walls of the castle, unhurt. His mother 
and wife, with several attendants, perished : but an infant 
daughter was found the next day, alive, and sleeping in its 
cradle, under a beam of the ruins, unhurt by the explosion. 
This daughter was Anne, afterwards married to Daniel, 
Earl of Wiiichelsea and Nottingham, by whom she had issue 
five sons and eight daughters, besides ten other children, 
who died voung, and seven, who were still-born, in all 
thirty. She was grandmother through her second son, 
William, to the late Earl of Winchelsea and Nottingham, 
and great-grandmother to the present Earl, through her 
youngest son, Edward. 

Dr Johnson used to remark, " If a man does not make 
new acquaintance as he advances through life, he wiU si)on 
find himself left alone. A man. Sir, should keep his 
friendship in constant repair." 





In themselves, these accomplishments are strictly 
mechanical. Learning to read, is no more in itself 
than learning to play the flute, and does not, indeed, 
require intellectual capacities of so high an order; 
to read is simply to connect a sound with a sign. 
To write is still more mechanical; it is the art of 
making very simple signs which, it has been agreed 
upon, shall represent a certain number of sounds. 
The mental processes employed in acquiring and 
practising these arts are of a very mean kind. No 
sound human being was ever found incapable of 
them. But they are instruments of stujiendous 
power, and it is the uses to which they may be applied, 
that has caused so much confusion respecting them. 
Under the old and clumsy methods of instruction, 
these arts were so slowly and painfully acquired, 
that, incidentally, numerous ideas were collected, 
which contribute still more to complicate the notions 
attached to the subject. But in the midst of other 
improvements, the mode of communicating a know- 
ledge of these arts, in the Iceist possible time, has been 
discovered. By the Bell, Lancasterian, and other 
methods of teaching, the art alone is acquired, and 
in the least possible time, so that the incidental addi- 
tion of a few ideas is lost. 

If then a boy, immorally educated, is taught also 
reading and writing, he is in nothing, or by very 
little, raised in intellectual cultivation, while two 
powerful instruments are put into his hands. Thus 
the child of a pickpocket, or burglar, will probably 
be neither pickpocket nor burglar, he will probably 
be a begging-letter writer, a forger, or an embezzler. 
If, on the other hand, a child be morally educated, 
these instruments of power will, according to his 
moral impressions, be turned to use. 

Like all power, however, they expose the possessor 
to temptation; and the greater the pressure of this 
force, the greater ought to be the moral and guiding 
power. — A servant ungifted with the art of reading 
manuscript, will not open letters or pry into secret 
papers — they tell him nothing ; but if he can so read, 
then some sense of right and wrong, and the habit 
of moral conduct, is necessary to strengthen him 
against the temptation of curiosity. This is a small 
case of very universal application. But while a 
temptation is afforded on the one hand to do evil, 
there is also presented the means of instruction; 
the taste for reading is not an unbalanced good : 
it depends in part on the books read; the chance, 
however, perhaps, is in favour of a wholesome result. 

From these considerations, it is manifest that 
literary education is so far from being a substitute 
for a moral one, that, on the other hand, it demands 
that a higher moral power should be exerted, in order 
to steady and direct the progress of the human 
vessel. Reading and writing are like a too-powerful 
steam-engine in a small and weakly boat — the helm 
is disobeyed, and the timbers are shaken to pieces. 
The helm, in these cases, is instruction, moral and 
religious. Lincolnshire Chronicle. 

Let no man presume that he can see prospectively into the 
ways of Providence ! His part is to contemplate them in 
the past, and trust in them for the future; but, so trusting, 
to act always upon motives of human prudence, directed 
by religious principles. Southey. 

Be not ashamed to confess you have been in the wrong. It 
is but owning, what you need not be ashamed of, that you 
now have more sense than you had before, to see your error, 
— more humility to acknowledge it, — and more grace to 
correct it. Sksg. 


Oft would I sing with boyish glee, 

Of joy and festive revelry; 

And oft would pour a softer strain 

To soothe some visionary pain: 

Oft too, when crested heroes fell, 

This hand hath struck the chorded sheU, 

Till maddening strains in frenzied jar. 

Echoed the brazen notes of war. 

Pride, mirth, ambition, love, or arms. 

Sweet friendship's voice, or nature's charms. 

Could wake a harp, which though unknown 

To fame, and heard by one alone. 

Whose partial ear would aye incUne 

To list e'en humble lay like mine. 

Ne'er slumbered when its master's voice. 

Summoned its echoes to rejoice ; 

Or called for tones of deepest grief 

To soothe a pain that spurned relief. 

Why then, since earthly themes could move, 

Of joy, ambition, or of love. 

Saviour! when thy blest name I sing, 

Reluctant shrinks the tuneless string. 

And loftiest themes to mortals given. 

To teach on earth the joys of heaven. 

Strains by yon white-robed minstrels sung, 

Fall lifeless from this stammering tongue ? 

Is it that heaven alone may be 

The scene of heaven's own minstrelsy ? 

Or that this heart, attuned to themes 

Of earth, and fancy's flickering dreams, 

Needs purer strains the joys to tell 

Of scenes where saints alone may dwell ? 

Oh then, till meet for realms above. 

Saviour, whom though unseen, I love ! 

Be mine on earth the filial tear. 

Offspring of love though chid by fear ; 

Be mine the hope, which though awhile 

It triumphs not, yet dares to smile; 

And mine the faith that scatters wide, 

The mists that heaven's bright presence hide . 

Whispering that soon this heart shall glow. 

With joys unseen, unknown, below ; 

And soon this hand, with skill new given. 

Echo the harmonies of heaven. 

S. c. w. 

As is the succession of the seasons, each, by the invariable 
laws of Nature, affects the productions of what is next in 
course; so, in human life, every period of our age, 
according as it is well or ill spent, influences the happiness 
of that which is to follow. Virtuous youth gradually 
brings forward accomplished and flourishing manhood: 
and such manhood passes of itself, without uneasiness, 
into respectable and tranquil old age. But when Nature 
is turned out of its regular course, disorder takes place in 
the moral, just as in the vegetable world. If the spring 
put forth no blossoms, in summer there will be no beauiy, 
and in autumn, no fruit. So, if youth be trifled away 
without improvement, manhood will be contemptible, and 
old age miserable. If the beginnings of life have been 
vanity, its latter end can be no other than vexation of 
spirit. Blair. 

From the piety, gentleness, and forbearance of women, 
spring most of the Christian virtues that adorn society: 
and from the tenderness and compassion stamped on their 
hearts, arise the greatest number of those benevolent deeds 
that form the chief blessings of life. From these divine 
virtues spring the tender nurse in sickness ; the " minis- 
tering angel" in affliction ; the friend of the suffering poor, 
the protectress of the helpless orphan. Oh ! let the human 
heart expand with gratitude to the Supreme Giver of all 
good, that such balms to earthly sorrows are given, in the 
endearing ties of wife, mother, sister, and daughter: and 
let each of these important relatives receive and use the gift 
of a tender and compassionate heart, as a precious deposit 
for the benefit of her fellow-creatures. Her feelings were 
given her as incentives to her various duties, and they 
must no more be wasted on useless objects than her 
fortune, her time, or her talents. Mrs. King. 



[FEBRtJAttY 8, I. S3 I. 



This is a sketch of the Coaita, or Spider Monkey, 
so called from the extraordinary length of its ex- 
tremities, and its motions. The tail answers the 
piuposes of a hand, and the animal throws itself 
about from branch to branch, sometimes swinging 
from the foot, sometimes by the hand, but oftener, 
and with a greater reach, by the tail. The extremity 
of the tail is covered only with skin, forming an 
organ of touch as discriminating as the hand. It 
inhabits the woods of South America, associating 
in great multitudes; assailing such travellers as 
pass through their haunts, with an infinite number 
of sportive and mischievous gambols; chattering, 
and throwing down dry sticks, swinging by their 
tails, and endeavouring to intimidate the passengers 
by a variety of menacing gestures. Its general 
colour is black, except the face, which is a dark flesh- 


The Chetodon rostratus, (from cheete, hair; odon, a 
tooth; and rostratus, beaked,) affords a curious in- 
stance of the precision of the eye, and of the adapta- 
tion of muscular action. This fish is about six or 
eight inches long, it inhabits the Indian rivers, and 
lives on the smaller aquatic flies. When it observes 
one alighted on a twig, or flying near, (for it can 
shoot them on the wing,) it darts a drop of water 
with so steady an aim, as to bring the fly down into 
the water, when it falls an easy prey. These fishes 
are kept in large vases for amusement, and if a fly 
be presented on the end of a twig, they will shoot at 
it with surprising accuracy. In its natural state, it 
will hit a fly at the distance of from three to six feet. 
— Sir Bell on the Hand. 


"That man" says tlie accomplished Cowper, " who can 
derive no gratification from a view of nature, even imder 
the disadvantage of her most ordinary dress, will have no 
eyes to admire her in any." 

This thought arose within me during a late walk in the 
neighbourhood of my village. The morning was cold and 
clear, but the sun shone bright, and not a cloud llitied 
across the heavens. The little river llowed over its rocky 
bed, and on either side, the spreading branches of the oak, 
the elm, and birch, had intercepted the flakes of snow, and 
formed a sparkling arcade. Every twig glittered with 
hoar-frost; even the coarser herbage, ferns, reeds, and 
mosses, seemed as if fledged with ioy feathers; while here 
and there the Daphne laurel, and the holly, fii-mly grasped 
the rugged banks. Their dark shining leaves were gemmed 
and edged with frozen particles, that reflected the colours 
of the rainbow; and across them innumerable spiders, as 
if proud to display their skill, had spun and interlaced 
their glittering webs. 

It is very amusing to watch a Spider when thus employed. 
He first throws out a thread, which becomes attached by 
its adhesive quality, to some near bough or leaf, tuft of moss 
or stone. He then turns round, recedes to a distance, 
attaches another floating thread to some other part, and 
darts away, doubling and redoubling, so as to form figures 
the most pleasing and fantastic, spinning a thread at every 
movement, thro\igh the holes of his bag, by an operation 
similar to the drawing of wire: 

And thus he works, as if to mock at art. 

And in defiance of her rival powers ; 

By these fortuitous and random strokes 

Performing such inimitable feats, 

As she with all her rules can never reach. — Cowpeu's Task. 

Yet the simple machinery, by which such a process is 
eflfccted, consists merely of two bags, or reser\"oirs, filled 
with gura, or glue, and perforated with small holes. The 
secretion of the threads is an act too subtile for our discern- 
ment, except as we perceive it by the produce. It may, 
however, be observed, that one thing answers to another, — 
the secretory glands to the quality and consistence required 
in the secreted substances, — the bags to its reception ; that 
the outlets and orifices are constructed not merely for 
relieving the reservoirs of their burden, but for manufac- 
turing the contents into a form and texture of great 
external use to the life and functions of the insect. Two 
purposes are thus accorapjished in the economy of nature. 
A feeble creature, which it has pleased Omnipotence to call 
into being, for reasons, though inscrutable to us, yet 
undoubtedly both wise and good, is put into a condition to 
provide for its own safety. An exquisite effect is also 
produced in the winter-landscape — an effect of a character 
so new and beautiful, though annually recurring, that few 

regard it without admiration and delight. Annals of My 


Waller's opinion concerning the duty of a poet was, — 
" Tliat he should blot from his works any line that did not 
contain some motive to virtue." Johnson. 

A gentleman, a good shot, lent a favourite old pointer to 
a friend, v,ho had not much to accuse himself of in the 
slaughter of partridges, however iTiuch he might have 
frightened them. After ineffectually firing at some birds, 
which the old pointer had found for him, the dog turned 
away in apparent disgust, went home, and never could be 

persuaded to accompany the same person afterwards. 


Talk not of music to a physician, nor of medicine to a 
fidler; unless the fidlei- should be sick, and the physician 
at a concert. He that speaks only of such subjects as are 
familiar to himself, treats the company as the stork did 
the fox, presenting an entertainment to him in a deep 
pitcher, out of which no creature could feed but a long 
billed fowl, Jones of Kayland. 

Arabian Proverb. — " Drops added to drops make the 


t'UBMsHED IN Weekly Niimhkrs. pkh;k Os>; Penny, and in Momthli Paxtv 
?HicE Sixpence, and 
SoU liy all lioDkscUerj and Newsvenders in the KiD|{<'uJB 

N° 104. 



lo".'. IS34. 

< Price 
? Onb Penny 


Vol. IV. 




[February 15, 


The Birman Empire, or eastern peninsula of India, 
IS only separated from the territories of the British 
East India Company, by a narrow chain of moun- 
tams, but our intercourse with the inhabitants is so 
limited, that but little is known of them. Their 
religion is, in some respects, the same as that of the 
Hindoos; they worship an image of Gaudma, who 
is said to have been a philosopher. The rliahaans, 
or priests, are a kind of monks, who live in cloisters, 
or Kioums, which are also Schools, where the children 
of nobles and peasants are educated gratis, and 
without any distinction of rank. The Kioums are 
supported by pillars, and open on all sides, no 
private apartments being allowed ; the interior of the 
building forms one large hall. 

The engraving represents one of these buildings, 
which was visited by Colonel Symes; it was distin- 
guished by the title of " Kioumdogee," or Royal 
Convent, and was, he says, " an edifice not less 
extraordinary from the style of its architecture, than 
magnificent from its ornaments, and from the gold 
that was profusely bestowed on every part. It was 
composed entirely of wood, and the roofs, rising one 
above another, in five distinct stories, diminished in 
size as they advanced in height, each roof being 
surrounded by a cornice, curiously carved and richly 
gilded. The body of the building, elevated twelve 
feet from the ground, was supported on large timbers 
driven into the earth, after the manner of piles, of 
which there were, probably, one hundred and fifty, 
to sustain the immense weight of the superstructure. 
On ascending the stairs, we were not less pleased 
than surprised, at the splendid appearance which the 
inside displayed; a gilded balustrade, fantastically 
carved, encompassed the outside of the platform. 
Within this, there was a wide gallery entirely round 
the building. An inner railing opened into a noble 
hall, supported by colonnades of lofty pillars, the 
centre row at least fifty feet high, and gilded from 
the top to within four feet of the base, which was 
lackered red. In the middle of the hall, was a 
gilded partition of open latticed work, in the centre 
of which, was a marble image of Gavidma, gilded, 
and sitting on a golden throne; and in front of the 
idol, leaning against a pillar, we saw the scredaw, 
or high-priest, sitting on a satin-carpet, and sur- 
rounded by a circle of priests, who kept their bodies 
bent in an attitude of respect, with their hands joined 
in a supplicating manner, as is the Indian custom 
in addressing a superior." 

Fame often makes a great deal of a little. — She 
magnifies and multiplies matters. Loud was the lie which 
that bell told, hanging in a clock-house at Westminster, 
and usually rung at the coronation and funeral of Princes, 
having this inscription about it: — 
King Edward made mc, I Take me down and weigh me, 

Thirty thousand and three* ; | And more you shall find me. 
But when this bell was taken down, at the doom"s-day of 
abbeys, this and two more were found not to weigh twenty 
thousand. Many tales of fame are found to shrink ac- 
cordingly. — Fuller. 

• Namely, pounds. 

A VERY small page will serve for the number of our good 
works, when vast volumes will not contain our evil deeds. 
— Bishop Wilson. 

We should take care of the beginnings of sm. Nobody is 
exceedingly wicked all at once : the devil is too cunning to 
startle men with temptations to great and frightful crimes 
at first ; but if he can tempt them to leave off their prayers, 
to take Go<rs name in vain, to drink, to swear, to hear 
filthy discourse, and to speak of the vices of others with 
pleasure, he will soon tempt them to crimes of a damning 
nature. — Bishop Wilson. 

As all measures which encourage the poor in 
provident habits, and direct the rich how to bestc«w 
their charity, so as to produce the most moral effect, 
ought to be made known; the Clothing Clubs 
now becoming frequent even in small parishes, are 
well worth notice. The general plan is, for each poor 
family to pay Is., or single person or child, 9d. or 6rf., 
or other small sum, each week or month, to which, 
at the end of the year, is added the sum of bene- 
factions given to the fund by charitable persons, and 
the two sums together, are divided to each poor 
contributor in proportion, in such necessary articles 
as they choose. So that for 12s. subscribed, they 
get the worth of 24s., or 21s., more or less, according 
to the amount of charitable contributions. The rich 
do much more good by encouraging these clubs, 
than by indiscriminate gifts of clothes at certain 
seasons, when what is not wanted is received, and 
what is given is often sold again. 

The following is a recent statement of one of the 
best managed Clothing Clubs, which has been long 

Statement of a Fund, eslublished in the Parish of . 

including the Hamlets, for providing Bedding, Clothing, i;c. for 
Labouring Families and Children, 

£ ». d. 

67 Families* paid Is. a month, for 12 months . .40 4 

6 ditto 9d. ditto 2 5 

72 42 9 
H$H the sum added to 51 of those who paid Is. 

amonth 15 6 0* 

One-third added to 2 of ditto 8 0* 

One-quaitei ditto to 9 ditto 1 7 0* 

Half added to the 5 who paid 9d 12 6* 

No addition made to 5. 

60 12 6 

52 Children, between the ages of 4 and 14, paid 

4(1. amonth each, for 12 months 10 8 

Half the sum added 5 4 0* 

£76 4 6 
In December the following articles were distributed to the above 
72 Families, in the proportion of 18s. to the first class, 16s. to the 
second class, and 15s. to the third class, 12s. to the fourth class, 
and 6s. to each of the Children, agreeable to their own choice: — 

12 counterpanes, at 2s. 6<i. each 1 10 

45 blankets, large, 5s. 2(/. ditto 11 12 6 

6 ditto, small, 3s. 4(i. ditto 1 

317| yards of sheeting cloth, at 9(i. a yard 11 17 6J 

192 ditto of bed-tick, at lid. ditto 8 16 

125J ditto of shirting cloth, at 9rf. ditto 4 14 IJ 

42 ditto, at 8d. ditto 1 8 

11 ditto, at 6(/. ditto 5 6 

132 ditto of flannel, at lOri. ditto 5 10 

27 ditto of calico for sheets, at Is. ditto 1 7 

435} ditto, at Sd. ditto 9 1 41 

a3 ditto, at 4d. ditto Oil 

14 ditto of velveteen, at Is. 9rf. ditto 1 4 6 

88i ditto of corduroy, at Is. 4rf. ditto 5 17 8 

9 ditto of fustian, at Is. 9rf. ditto 15 9 

15 ditto for trousers, at 6</. ditto 7 6 

7 ditto of Russia duck, at 9d. ditto 5 3 

102J ditto of stuff, at Id. ditto 2 19 94 

124J ditto of blue print, at 9(/. ditto 4 13 4| 

71 ditto of ditto, at 7rf. ditto 2 1 5 

12 ditto of ditto, at 6d. ditto 6 

* Tlie amount of inrlividual contributions varied from Is. (o 51. 
•• These added sums are from subscriptions and donations. 


The sailing Pine ; the Cedar, proud and tall ; 

The vine-prop Elm ; the Poplar, never dry ; 

The builder Oak, sole king of forests all ; 

The Aspern, good for staves ; the Cypress, funeral ; 

The Laurel, meed of mighty conquerors 

And poets sage ; the Fir that weepeth still ; 

The Willoiv, worn of hopeless paramours : 

The Yew, obedient to the bender's will ; 

The Birch for shafts ; the Sallow for the mill ; 

The Myrrh, sweet bleeding in the bitter wound ; 

The warlike Beech ; the Ash, for nothing ill : 

The fruitful Olive, and the Platane round , 

The carver Holm , the Maple, seldom inward sound. 





SCOTLAND, IN August, 1829. 

The heat in the province of Mora)', duiing the months of 
May, June, and July, was unusually great ; and in the 
earlier part of that period, the drought was excessive. 
The variations of the barometer were very remarkable, but 
were so seldom followed by corresponding changes in the 
weather, that observers of the instrument began to lose all 
confidence in it. In July the aurora borealis was frequently 
seen, accompanied by windy, unsteady weather, and the 
continued drought was interrupted bv sudden falls of rain, 
partaking rf the character of svater-spouts. 

A remarkable instance of one of these occurred on 
Sunday the 12th of July, at Kean-loch-luichart, a litlle 
highland hamlet in Ross-shire. A man having taken 
shelter under an arch, suddenly beheld a moving mountain 
of soil, stones, and trees, coming slowly but steadily down 
the deep-worn course of a little stream. He tied in terror. 
It reached the bridge, where its progress was for a moment 
arrested ; when, bursting the feeble barrier that opposed it, 
oti it rushed with dreadful devastation over the plain below. 
A small rivulet on the other side of the chiu'ch was much 
swollen, so that the people, on coming out of church, found 
themselves in an instant between two impassable torrents, 
and had barely time to save their lives, by crowding to 
an elevated spot, where they remained till the waters 

The rain began on Sunday evening the 2nd of August, 
and continued with little or no intermission tdl Tuesday. 
The Nairn and other streams of the valley through which it 
runs, rushed from the mountains, filled with gravel and 
stones, and committed great havoc on many farms, and 
carried a huge mass of machinery from the fulling mill of 
Faillie, down to Cantray, nine miles below;, from whence it 
was with much labour brought back to its home, but was 
hardlv well re-established, when the flood of the 2"th bore 
it away again, and landed it at Kilravock, after a voyage of 
eleven miles. 

The Naugh of Culbeg, of twenty-five acres in extent, 
had the whole of its crop annihilated, and the worthy 
tenant of the farm, James Mackintosh and his family, 
narrowly escaped destruction : for two days they were kcpl 
out of their dwelling, and when, at length, they v. t-re 
enabled to return to it, and set things a little in order, 
thanking God for their personal safety, the yet more 
terrible flood of the 27th visited them, and filled the rooms 
to the height of five feet. They retreated more precipi- 
tately than before : " But," said Mr. Mackintosh to me, as 
we stood afterwards on his damp disconsolate floor, " I 
minded moo" something I would ha-e done ill wanting; 
and so I wade back again, and crept in at that window, and 
after groping about, and getting hold of what I was seeking, 
I was going to creep out again, when I bethought me of 
my specks." " Specks," said I, " how could you risk your 
life for a pair of spectacles ?" " Trouth, sir," replied he 
seriously, " I could not have read my Bible without thera ; 
and, more than that, they were silver specks, and they were 
specks sent me home in a present from my son the Epis- 
copal minister in Canada." 

At the town of Nairn, at the mouth of the river, there 
was a tremendous gale of wind on the 3rd, but the most 
destructive effects of the flood were seen after the 27th, 
when the bridge was seriously injured, great part of the 
stone piers and embankment of the harbour carried away, 
and a brig sunk at its mouth. A remarkable object in 
this scene of desolation was a fishing-hut about twelve feet 
long, standing on a beach in the middle of the river, 
constructed of four posts, with bearers stretched between 
them at top and bottom, and covered, roof and all, with 
outside planks, \^'hile the bridge, the pier, the vessel, 
nay, the very rocks, were yielding to the fury of the deluge, 
this ark stood unmoved in the midst of the waters of both 
ffoods, uninjured. No building of stone and lime could 
have stood in the same place. 

The river Findhom runs through a direct line of coun- 
try of not less than sixty n.iles: the damage done throughout 
its course was immense. In the bridge of Freeburn, a 
horizontal crack m the masonry shows that the mass 
above was lifted up by the water, like the lid of a chest, 
and dropped asain into its place after the fall of the arch ; 
the middle arch fell early in the right of the 3rd, the other 
two towards morning. The river here, though two hundred 
yards wide, was seventeen feet above its usual level. 

The river Dorback, a tributary of the Findhom, de- 

stroyed many farms, carrying away thirty acres at a time. 
At one spot was a bank of one hundred feet high, which 
rose, covered with a birch and alder wood. The soil being 
spongy, became overloaded with moisture imbibed from 
the rain, and with all its trees gave way at once, threw 
itself headlong, and bounded across the bed of the Dor- 
back, blocking up the waters, flooded as they were at tha 
time. William Macdonald, the farmer who witncEsed this, 
told me, that it fell " with a sort of a dumb sound, ' which 
though somewhat of a contradiction in tenns, conveys the 
meaning it is intended to express. Astonished, and con- 
founded, he remained gazing. The water continued 
accumulating behind this obstacle for nearly an hour, as it 
did not entirely stop the stream; at length, becoming too 
powerful to be longer resisted, tlie enormous dam began to 
yield, and was hurled onwards like a floating island. 
While Macdonald was standing lost in wonderment, to 
behold his farm thus sailing oflf to the ocean, by acres at 
a- time, above half an acre more of it rent itself away 
from its native hill, and descended at once, with a grove 
of trees on it, to the river, where part of it still remains, 
with the trees growing upright upon it. 

The devastation caused by the Findhom swept away 
every sign of cultivation on the rich and extensive plain 
of Forres. Mr. Suter's house, at Moy, was filled, on the 
night of the .3rd, with women and children, who had been 
dri\en from their cottages; the men being actively em- 
ployed at the risk of their lives, in saving others, there was 
great anxiety felt lor the fate of those who had not yet 
escaped from their houses, particularly for a family named 
KeiT, and for Sandy Smith, popularly called Whins, or 
Funns, from his residing on a furzy piece of pasture; the 
light in his window disappeared in the course of the night, 
nd Mr. Suter ordered lights to be put in his own windows, 
to cheer any who might still survive. 

At seven in the morning, Mr. Suter found his servant, 
Alexander Kerr, standing on a spot he had not left during 
the night, gazing towards the house of his parents, and 
weeping in great agony, for their rescue appeared utterly 
impossible. Mr. Suter tried to comfort him; but while 
he spoke, the whole gable of Kerr's dwelling gave way, 
and fell into the raging current. With a telescope, a 
hand was seen working through the thatt'h of an adjoin- 
ing roof. A head soon appeared ; at last Kerr's whole 
frame emerged, and he began to draw out his wife and 
me>2e. Clinging to one another, they crawled along the 
roof, and at last succeeded in reaching a small speck of 
ground, higher than the rest, and so cl6se to the wall, 
that they stood on it without even room to move. It was 
long before a boat could venture to attempt their rescue, 
and then at a great risk, but they were all brought safely 
to land. 

During this time, it was observed through the telescope, 
that Funns and his family had been driven from their 
dwelling, and were all huddled together on a spot of 
ground a few feet square. He was sometimes standing, 
sometimes sitting on a small cask, watching the progress 
of the flood. His wife, covered with a blanket, sat shiver- 
iiii; on a bit of a log, one child in her lap, and a girl of 
about seventeen, witli a boy of twelve, leaning against her 
side. Above a score of sheep were standing round, or 
wading through the shallows. Three cows and a small 
horse were also grouped with the family. 

Between six and seven in the evening, when the waters 
were subsiding, a boat was launched with four of the most 
skilful rowers, into the wide inundation, through which five 
streams raged with elevated waves. The moment the men 
dashed into the first of these, they were whirled down for- a 
great way ; but having once got through it, they pulled up 
in the quieter water beyond, to prepare for the next, and 
wherever they thought they had footing, they sprang out 
of the boat, and dragged it up. They crossed all the other 
streams in the same way, but the last they encountered, 
being towards the middle of the flood, was fearful, and 
carried them very far down; when Funns himself, over 
joyed to behold them, waded towards them, and gave them 
his best help to drag up the boat again : glad was he, to 
see his wife and children safe in the boat, and great as 
were the perils of their return, they were all at last happily 

The wind and rain beat on them fiercely while on their 
little island, and " it was an awful thing," as Funns hint 
self said, " to be expecting every minute to be swept into 
eternity in such an unprepared state, and our ears driven 
deaf with the roaring of the waters, and the crashing of 



[Februaky is. 


the gi-eat trees that came past us every minute, and every 
thing (lark about us, and nothing to be seen but the far- 
distant glimmer of Mr. Suter's candles ; but their light was 
some little comfort, — it seemed as if the Lord had not 
altogether forsaken us.'' Upon being asked if he had 
prayed, " Ay, sir, long and strong, " replied he, earnestly, 
** and more tervently than I ever did in my life before : and 
thankful to Providence was I when I found that my prayers 
were heard. I'll be grateful to God all my days. It's a great 
fomfort to a poor man to feel that the Lord is his friend." 

The whole plain of Forres was under water, and looked 
afterwards like an uprooted forest, from the ruins of enor- 
mous trees with which it was covered. The losses of the 
poor here were very great, seventy-five cases of families 
reduced to misery having been reported from one parish. 

An extraordinary circumstance took place in a little lake 
near Aviemore, and near the great road. The lake lies in 
a hollow, and has a fir-wood beyond it to the south. The 
centre of it was filled with a swampy island, which had 
been now and then seen to rise and fall a little with the 
surface of the water. During the flood, one of the cross- 
drains of the road sent a stream directly down a hollow, 
and rushed into the lake with such force, that it actually 
undermined and tore up the island ; and the surface of the 
water being raised fifteen or twenty feet, and the wind 
blowing ftiriously from the north-east, the huge mass was 
floated and drifted to the southern shore, and stranded on 
the steep bank, whore it lay like a great carpet, the 
upper half reclining on the slope of the bank, and the 
lower resting on the more level ground, close to the 
water's edge. 

The river Feshie, which runs into the Spey, was subject 
to the full influence of the deluge. It swept vast stones, 
and heavy trees, along with it, roaring tremendously. At 
the hamlet of Cullachie, on the right bank of the Spey, I 
was struck with the vast extent of the flood-mark, and, 
being incredulous that the inundation could have spread so 
far, I turned aside to the house of the 'Widow Cameron, 
who gave me the history of her disasters. — " Oh, sir," said 
she, " you see the Spey was j ust one sea a' the way from 
Tullochgorum, on the other side of the strath, to those 
hillocks beyond the King's-road, and before we knew where 
we were, the water was up four or five feet in our houses ; 
it destroyed all our meal, and floated off our peat-stacks. "' 
" And how did you escape ?" I inquired. " Oh, troth, 
just upon a brander," replied Mrs. Cameron. " A brander," 
exclaimed I, in astonishment, not knowing that the word 
was applied to any thmg but a Scotch gridiron ; " what do 
vou mean by a brander? ' " O, just a bit float," replied 

the widow ; " a bit raft, I made o' the palings and bits o 
moss-fir that were lying about." " 'What ! and your chil 
dren too?" exclaimed I. "Oh, what else;" replied she, 
amused at my suqirise ; " what could I have done with 
them else ; no horse could come near us ; it was deep 
enough to drown two horses ; but you see I sat on the 
middle of the raft, with my bairns all about me in a knot, 
and the wind that was blowing strong enough from the 
north, just took us safe out to the land." " And how did 
your neighbours get out ?" " O what way would they get 
out but all together upon branders," replied Mrs. Cameron. 
Let the reader fancy to himself this fleet of branders, with 
their crews of women and children, and he will have before 
his mind's eye a scene as remarkable as any which this 
eventful flood produced 

On the river Nethey, the excavations caused by the flood 
have laid open the foundations of some iron-works, which 
were deserted about one hundred years ago, and all traces 
of which had been obliterated by the deposits of the river. 

At the bridge of Nethey, some people were standing on 
the bridge watching the flood, which was carrying down 
great trees, and tossing them up perpendicularly, when, all 
at once, the enormous mass of timber building, composing 
the saw-mill of Straanbeg, about 500 yards above, moved 
bodily off, steadily and magnificently, like some three- 
decker leaving dock, and without a plank being dislodged. 
It was tremendous, — it was awful to see it advancing on 
the bridge. The people shuddered, — some moved quickly 
away, and others instinctively grasped the parapet to 
prepare for the shock; it was already within 100 yards 
of them, when at once it struck upon a bulwark, went to 
pieces with a fearful crash, and spreading itself over the 
surface of the stream, went down to the Spey in one sea 
of wreck. 

On the river Dulnan, at the well-known stage of the 
bridge of Carr, the old bridge, long since disused, was 
always a picturesque object, but the flood has rendered it 
still more so by entiiely removing the remains of its wing 
walls, and leaving its tall, round, skeleton arch standing, 
opposed to the plump and well-conditioned body of the 
more substantial modern erection. 

The bridge of Curr, on the Spey, of a single arch of 
sixty-five feet span, had its southern abutment undermined 
by the water. An eye witness informs me, that the mo- 
ment the support gave way, the force of the immense body 
of water was so great, that it made the arch spring fifteen 
feet into the air. 'While in the act of ascending, it main 
tained its perfect semicirculai form, but as it descended, it« 
ends came together. 





The once beautiful plain of Rothes presented only a 
scene of devastation after the inundation ; many houses in 
the village of Rothes were destroyed; and fears were 
entertained for the safety of the inhabitants of some of the 
farms above the village. Mr. Brown saw that the water 
was five feet high against the walls of a farm-house, 
tenanted by widow Riach, and the stream that was rushing 
by, was at least four times as wide as the Spey in its 
osrdinary state. One end of the house was so undermined, 
that it was evident the goble must soon fall, when to his 
horror, he saw a woman waving a handkerchief out of a 
window of that very gable. \fr. Brown hurried off to the 
village to procure a boat, and at length, succeeded in get- 
ling it launched and manned for the expedition, and with 
great difliculty, they succeeded in saving the women The 
boat then returned for the men, and as before, pushed 
behind some intervening buildings, While the spectators 
were anxiously looking for its reappearance, the gable 
which had been so long undermined, gave way at once, 
and carried half the building along with it. When the tre- 
mendous splash of water, and cloud of dust cleared away, 
to the unspeakable joy of the beholders, the little boat was 
seen through the gap in the building, with the remainder 
of the family seated in it, who were soon happily out of 
the reach of danger. Mrs. Riach had her Bible in her 
hand, apparently, the only wreck of property she had 
saved ; but in that she had found consolation. Her sovll 
had been already attuned to affliction: in her widowed 
state, she had lately lost her son, and now, nearly hei all 
was gone ; for when I visited her farm, not a vestige of 
new or old crop was left. The house had, indeed, been 
built up, but every thing else was one wide waste of ruin 
and devastation , yet, with all this, pure religion had pro- 
duced its effect, and the pale, mild countenance of the 
andow met me at her door, wearing an expression of 
resignation and gratitude, for the merciful deliverance 
which had been vouchsafed her. There was no complaint; 
every word she uttered, showed her deep sense of the 
goodness of that God, who is ever the widow's friend, and 
who had so wonderftiUy preserved her, and those she held 
most dear. 

Below Orton, the cottage of a poor and very industrious 
man, John Geddes, built on a spot somewhat elevated, had 
entirely escaped the floods of former years, when the 
neighbouring houses were inundated to a considerable 
depth. Alarmed by the rapid rise of the river, the i)eople 
of other cottages, crowded as night fell, to that belonging 
lo John Oeddes, firmlv believing, that thev should be 


perfectly safe in it There, nme men and women, and 
four children, sat slavering over the fire, in their wet gar- 
ments. The faggots were heaped high, and they began to 
forget their fears, when Geddes and another went out, and 
saw the water growing terrible. " Ye' re all very merry, 
sirs," said he, as he went in, " but yell no be so lang. Yo 
had better stir your stumps, and put things out of the way, 
and look to your own safety." " The words were hardiv 
out of my mouth, " his account continues, " when in came 
the river upon us. We lifted the meal-chest, and put 
the wife and her baby, and the baimies into the bed, 
and the rest got up on chests and tables. We put 
the fire on the girdle, hung the girdle on the crook in 
the chimney, and stuck the lamp up on the wall. But the 
water soon drowned out the fire, and rose into the bed. I 
then put two chairs in the bed, and the wife sat upon them 
with the little ones in her lap ; but the water soon get up 
to them there. Then I cut the ceiling above the bed, put 
a door between the two chair backs, laid a bed on the door, 
set the wife and little ones above that, and then went and 
held the door firm with my feet, having an axe ready to 
cut the house roof in case of need. We were long in this 
way, and I cheered them the best I could, and told them 
the hours every now and then by my watch, which I hung 
up in my sight ; but the water rose and rose, till about two 
o'clock, when it drowned out the lamp. There was then a 
groan, and a cry that there was nothing for us now but 
death. 'Trust in Providence," says I to them; 'trust in 
Providence, neighbours. But dinna think that ye can be 
saved, unless ye make use of the reason and faculties that 
God has bestowed on ye. I'll cut the roof the moment I 
see that nothing else will do.' But in truth it was an 
aw'some night, what with the roar and raging of the water, 
the howling of the wind, the beating of the rain without, 
and the cries and prayers of the terrified folk, and greeting 
of the bairns within ; and we, as a body might say, 
hanging between the two worlds, every moment expecting 
the house to give way : and the very tables and chairs the 
folk were standing on, shaking and floating beneath them. 
Aweel ! when we were in the height of despondency, 
Maggy Christie heard tongues without, and with very joy, 
she jumped down from the chest she was standing on : 
but, I trow, she got such a glilf of the water, that she gave 
a roar, and leaping on the hearth, caught at the crook to 
save herself, and with that she climbed up the chimnej', 
and put her head out at the top, with her face as black as a 
suttyman's. ' Oh ! Jamie Mill, Jamie Mill.' cried the, 
' ye' re the blythest sight that ever I saw ! ' Keep us n' ! 





[February 15. 

IS that you, Maggy ?' quoth Jamie Mill, ' weel, Tve seen 
blyther sights than you are at this precious moment ; but, 
black though ye be, I maun liave ye out o' that." And 
so he crept up the roof and pulled her out of the chimney. 
When they came round to the door, the house was so deep 
with water, that there was barely space to thrust our 
heads between the stream and the lintel, so that I was 
forced to dip the bit bairnies in the water, before I could 
get them out. That did gang to my very heart !" 

The bridge over the Spey at Fochabers, consisted of four 
arches. The view from it on the morning of the 4th, 
presented one vast expanse of dark-brown water, from the 
foot of the hill of Beuagen to the sea, about ten miles in 
length, and in many places more than two miles broad. 
The surface was varied only by floating wreck, or by the 
tops of trees, or roofs of houses, to which, in more than 
one instance, the miserable inhabitants were seen clinging, 
while boats were plying about for their relief. 

By eight o'clock the flood was seventeen feet up on the 
bridge, which, however, stood firm, though the water boiled, 
as it were, in caldrons round the piers. Crowds of people 
had been on it watching the river during the morning, but 
it happened that there were but few persons at twenty 
minutes after twelve, when a crack, no wider than the cut 
of a sword, opened across the roadway before them, and 
backwards, parallel with the parapet. With a cry of alarm 
they sprang forward : the crack yawned wide, before Mr. 
Russel, one of the number, could step across it. He leaped 
from the falling ruins, and alighted on the part which was 
vet Arm, with one foot hanging behind him in vacancy, 
bown went the whole mass of the two arches next the 
bank. The stream, for a moment, was driven back with 
impetuous recoil, baring its channel to the very bottom, then 
again rushing onwards, its thundering roar proclaimed its 
victory, and not a vestige of the fallen fragments was to 
be seen. 

So great was the body of water that rushed into the sea, 
that no tide could enter the river, which, at Garraouth, 
previous to the flood, was not above twenty yards wide. It 
had now been widened to about four hundred yards, by 
which the vessels in the harbour were exposed to the 
greatest danger; many were driven on shore, but fortunately 
no lives lost. 

The scene for miles along the beach was at once ani- 
mated and terrible. Crowds were employed in trying to 
save the wood and other wreck, with which the heavy 
rolling tide was loaded ; whilst the margin of the sea was 
strewed with the carcasses of domestic animals, and with 
«nillions of dead hares and rabbits. Thousands of living 
frogs also, swept from the fields, were observed leaping 
among the wreck. 

A little stream which nms into the Deveron, carried 
away a mass of basaltic rock, which I measured, eight 
feet long, five feet wide, and four feet deep, weighing, 
probably, between seven and eight tons; and removed it 
full three hundred yards. The inclination of the channel 
of the stream is considerable: but the rock had not been 
rolled, for some delicate plants of maiden-hair fern were 
left growing on its upper surface, unharmed. In its pro- 
gress, it leaped over a cascade of about thirty feet fall. 
In this neighbourhood, as in some others, a shock of an 
earthquake was distinctly felt. 

Near the mouth of the Deveron, many vessels seemed 
so distressed by the storm, that parties of the Whitehills 
fishermen patrolled the beacli during the tempestuous 
night of the .3rd, to be ready with their help, if help 
might yet avail. At about one o'clock in the morning, the 
coal-brig. Success, came ashore among the rocks, and six 
men and a woman, all in an exhausted state, were safely 
landed by the intrepid and well-directed exertions of these 
praiseworthy fellows. So furious was the surf, that it 
instantly beat the vessel to pieces, and hterally pounded 
her cargo to a powder, that blackened the white waves 

The river Don, as it approaches the ancient " Brig 
of Balgownie," becomes narrowed on both sides by the 
rocks. The waters rose opposite to the centre of the arch, 
somewhat in the form of an arc. From this height, they 
poured ilown in a cascade of many feet, to the lower side of 
tiie bridge, where they produced a frightful whirlpool. " 1 
have seen the waves of the Atlantic rolling down the 
Pentland Firtli, " says my informant, Mr. George Tulloch, 
" and wasting their gigantic strength on the iron-bound 
coasts of the north; but even there, ray impression of 
power was less vivid. Nothing seemed to describe it, but 

the sublime language of the Psalmist^ 'Tlie floods have 
lifted up, O Lord ! the floods have lifted up their voice! 
the floods lift up their waves! The Lord on high is 
mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the 
mighty waves of the ocean.' " This old bridge, which 
stood an assault so terrible, is above five hundred years 
old, and presents a singular sjwcimen of the Gothic arch. 

At the head of the Don, a shock of an earthquake was 
felt, and a singular noise heard, which appeared connected 
with it. Instances of outbursts of subterranean water 
were very frequent in the mountains in Braemar. On 
the north side of the red granite hill of the Muckle Glas- 
haidt, near Invercauld, are no less than fifteen or sixteen 
of these openings, varying in breadth from thirty to forty 
yards. Each of these appears to have had an immense column 
of water issuing from it, which has cut a track for itself, 
to the very base of the mountain. The tracks are all of 
very peculiar formation : their margins or sides are com- 
pletely defined by a fence of stones, raised considerably 
above the surface, something like that left by the track 
of an avalanche. Dr. Robertson, of Craithie, concludes, 
from the appearances, that the water burst fi-om the 
mountain in repeated jets, rather than in one continuefl 
stream: and such we know to have been the case at To- 
manurd, on the Spey, where a similar phenomenon occurred. 

Mr. Grant, of Culquoich, was passing the hill of To- 
manurd, on Tuesday, the 4th of August, and observed a 
quaking of the earth for sixty or seventy yards round the 
spot, which continued for some time. At length an im- 
mense column of water forced itself through the face of 
the hill, spoutmg mto the air, and tossing around large 
stones and great quantities of gravel. Sometimes it ceased 
altogether, and nothing was heard but the rush as of a 
considerable river. Again it would burst forth like a 
geyser, with renewed energy, tearing up whole banks of 
earth, and hurling them to the distance of 300 yards. The 
water was quite transparent, and had so much the appear- 
ance of boiling, that Mr. Grant at first really imagined it 
must be warm. There were various conjectures as to the 
cause of this prodigy. I am rather disposed to think that 
the hill must contain some subterranean reservoir, which 
produced the elfect by becoming surcharged. 


We cannot doubt that so terrible a judgment was sent 
ny the Almighty Governor of the Universe for some great 
and beneficial purpose ; and the mercy that was mingled 
with the chastisement, may well teach us the love of that 
Heavenly Father from whose hand it comes. Amidst all 
the terrors and dangers of this unexampled calamity, when 
thousands of lives were placed in jeopardy, ftie instances 
of providential deliverance were so numerous, and so extra 
ordinary, that throughout so great an extent of flooded 
rivers, we have only the loss of eight human lives to 

[Abridged from the interesting Accmtnt of the Floods in Moray, &c 
by Sir Tho-mas Dick Lauder.] 

Not more necessary are constant supplies of water to the 
growth of vegetation in the sultry regions of the East, 
than the influences of divine truth to the existence of 
human happiness. If a tree, planted by the margin of a 
refreshing river, is proof against the heat of the sun, or 
the unfavourableness of the seasons, he, also, who, into a 
well-prepared heart, receives continual infusions of reli 
gious wisdom, is flourishing and happy amidst all the 
inconveniences of life. Bishop .Iebb. 

When we see our enemies and friends gliding away before 
us, let us not forget that we are subject to the general law 
of mortality, and shall soon be where our doom will be 
fixed for ever. — Dr. Johnson. 

It is certain, that all the evils in society arise from want 
of faith in God, and of obedience to his laws; and it is no 
less certain, that by the prevalence of a lively and efficient 
belief, they would all be cured. If Christians in any 
country, yea, if any collected body of them, were what they 1 
might, and ought, and are commanded to be, the universal I 
reception of the Gospel would follow as a natural and a 
promised result. And in a world of Christians, the ex 
tinction of physical evil might be looked for, if moral evil, 
that is, in Christian language, sin, were removed. 






No. IX. On the Use of the Barometer. 
We have seen that the Barometer is an instrument 
10 constructed as to measiire the pressure of the air 
at any time. That pressure arises from the weight 
of all the air above the instrument up to the highest 
part of the atmosphere. And if there are any 
changes in the air which affect that pressure, the 
variation in the height of the column of mercury in 
the Barometer will measure their effect. 

The first effect which we will notice is that occa- 
sioned by the wind. If a bent tube, 
ABC, partly filled with a coloured fluid, 
and open at both ends, be held with 
the two legs, a b, c b, vertical, the fluid 
will stand at the same level, p, a, in each 
tube. In this case, the pressure of the 
atmosphere upon p and q is the same ; 
the height of the columns of fluid, p b, 
Q B, is also the same ; so that the whole 
pressure at b is equal in each leg of the 
tube, and the fluid will remain at rest. 

Now suppose a person blows briskly 
with a pair of bellows, or by the force 
of his own lungs, across the mouth of 
one leg of the tube at a, the fluid p in 
that leg instantly rises, and the reason 
is this ; the side-way motion of the air, 
across the mouth of the tube, a p, dimi- 
nishes the pressure of the air upon the 
B fluid at p, while the pressure at a re- 

mains the same ; a, therefore, will be 
pressed down, and p will rise, until the pressure of 
the fluid in p b is as much greater than that in q b, 
as the pressure of the air at p is less than that at q. 

Any one may see the effect of lateral motion in a 
fluid to diminish its pressure downwards, by simply 
observing the surface of a stream which is in rapid 
motion, as through the arches of a bridge. It will 
be observed, that the surface of such running water 
is not horizontal ; it is highest where the current is 
most rapid, which is generally near the middle of 
the stream. 

When, then, the wind is blowing rapidly in any 
part of the earth, even if there were no alteration in 
the quantity of air over the place where the current 
of air is moving with the greatest velocity, the 
downward pressure of the air would be diminished, 
and the mercury in the Barometer would fall. And 
if, as is probably the case, the causes which produce 
a gale of wind at the surface of the earth, begin to 
act in the upper regions of the air before their effects 
are sensible below, the fall in the mercury of the 
Barometer will predict the gale of wind. 

This is, accordingly, one of the most valuable uses 
of the instrument. Between the tropics, and at the 
surface of the sea, there is very little change, gene- 
rally, in the height of the Barometer ; but the sudden 
and violent squalls which are so dangerous to the 
seaman, are almost invariably predicted by the rapid 
fall of the mercury in the Barometer, so that the 
constant observation of that instrument is a most 
important part of the navigator's duty. Many most 
valuable lives, and property of immense amount, 
have been preserved by timely warning thus given by 
the Barometer. 

We may observe that, in order to render the Baro- 
meter fit for use at sea, where it is constantly in 
motion, a very ingenious contrivance is employed. 
If the tube, which contains the mercury, were of 
the same size throughout as in the common Baro- 
meter, the tube would soon be broken by the mercury 


being dashed against the top ; and even if 
that were guarded against, the surface of the 
mercury would be so constantly in motion, 
that it would be scarcely possible to observe 
its height. To prevent this inconvenience, 
a part of the tube, a b, between the mercury 
at M and the basin, is made very small, by ^ 
which means the undulation of the mercury 
arising from the motion of the ship is totally 

A contrivance of the same kind is used, \, 
when it is required to observe the exact 
height of the tide. It would be impossible 
to notice, with any accuracy, what is the 
average level of the waves which are dashing 
against a pier by the sea-side. But if a 
tube, ABC, communicates with the water 
at A, and is made very small in one part, a h, 
water in it will rise to l, the average level of 
waves, which mav thus be exactly observed. 


Another important use of the Barometer is to 
measure heights. Since the whole pressure of the 
air, which is measured by the height of the mercury 
in the Barometer, arises from the weight of all the 
air wliich is above it. it is plain that, if the instrument 
is raised above its former position, part of the air, 
which caused the pressure upon the mercury, will be 
now beneath the instrument, and the pressure will be 
diminished by the quantity which was occasioned by 
the weight of that part of the air. 

The celebrated Pascal was the first person who 
established this fact by experiment. In his time, it 
was not completely established that the mercury in 
the Barometer was sustained by the pressure of the 
air. He argued, that, if that were the case, and he 
ascended a mountain, the pressure of the air between 
the bottom and the top of the mountain would be 
taken off from the mercury, which would conse- 
quently stand at a less height. He tried the expe- 
riment, on the mountain called the Puy de D6me, 
and found that the mercury did stand considerably 
lower at the top of the mountain than at the bottom. 

Any one, who possesses a Barometer, may satisfy 
himself of this fact, by observing accurately the 
height of the Barometer, at the top and at the 
bottom of a hill fifty or sixty feet high, or even in a 
lower and in an upper room of a house of three 
stories. An elevation of one hundred feet occasions 
a depression in the column of mercury of about a 
tenth of an inch, a quantity which is very perceptible, 
without any contrivance for measuring minute dif- 

If the air were, like water, nearly incompressible, 
a vertical column of one hundred feet in length 
would have the same weight, at whatever altitude 
in the atmosphere it was taken. But since air is 
compressible, that nearest to the surface of the earth, 
being pressed by the weight of all the air above it, 
is the heaviest, and causes the greatest pressure; and 
it grows lighter and lighter as we rise higher from 
the earth. Hence if, after having risen to the height 
of one Imndred feet, we again rise through an equal 
space, we shall take off from the mercury in the 
Barometer the pressure of a column of air, which 
weighs less than the first column of the same length; 
so that the mercury will not sink so much for this 
second elevation as for the first. And thus, for 



IFebruary 15, 182 

equal elevations above the earth, the corresponding 
depressions of the mercury become less and less. 

There is, however, a rule, by which tables are 
constructed, showini^ what is the elevation corre- 
sponding to different depressions of the mercury in 
the Barometer, after applying the corrections for the 
change of temperature : and by the use of these 
tables, heights may be measured with very consi- 
derable exactness. It is by this method that persons 
m a balloon can tell with great precision their elevation 
above the earth : and the heights of mountains, and 
other places of less elevation, can be found by the 
same means. The method might, indeed, be em- 
ployed much more extensively than it has ever yet 
been. If the height of the mercury in the Barometer 
were observed with accuracy in different places, for 
a considerable time, for instance, during a year, and 
the mean height ascertained, after making allowance 
for the difference of temperature, the difference in 
the level of the places of observation would be found 
with great accuracy. 

The changes of the height of the mercury in the 
Barometer also indicate, in some degree, the changes 
of the weather. The causes which influence these 
atmospheric changes, are too little understood to 
enable us to reduce such observations to any certainty. 
Still, as a general rule, it will be found that a rising 
barometer is accompanied with fair weather, and a 
falling barometer with stormy weather. The marks, 
however, of " Fair," " Set-fair," " Rain," " Stormy," 
and the like, which are sometimes placed upon 
Barometers, cannot be depended upon. When the 
Barometer stands at the point marked " Rain," but 
is rising, it is more likely to introduce fine weather, 
than if the Barometer stands at " Fair," and is 
falling. The direction of the wind also influences the 
Barometer materially. In this country, the Baro- 
meter usually stands higher when the wind blows 
from a northern quarter, than when it blows from a 
southern one. 

The Barometer shows very clearly what an enor- 
mous pressure our own bodies are constantly sus- 
taining from the atmosphere, without our being 
sensible of it. The pressure upon every square inch 
of our body, at any time, is exactly equal to the 
weight of a column of mercury, an inch square, and 
of the same height as that in the Barometer at the 
time. When the Barometer stands at thirty inches, 
this pressure is about 1.5 lbs. upon each square inch, 
so that an ordinary man sustains, on his whole body, 
a pressure of about 30,0001bs., or lOOOlbs. for each 
inch of the mercury. If the mercury in the Baro- 
meter, therefore, falls one inch, the pressure which such 
a man sustains, is diminished by about lOOOlbs.; if 
the mercury falls the tenth of an inch, the pressure 
is diminished by 100 lbs., and in the same proportion 
for other changes. 

The reason why we are insensible of this great 
pressure is, that it is equally exerted upon every 
part of our body, above, below, and on all sides : so 
tliat the atmosphere acts not as a weight, pressing 
down, but as an elastic brace, encompassing our 
limbs, and tending to strengthen the vessels against 
the internal pressure arising from the blood, and 
other fluids which they contain. C. 

The first ingredient in conversation is truth, the next good 

sense, the third good humour, and the fourth wit. Sir 

W. Templk. 

Thbre is nothing too little for so little a creature as man. 
It is by studying little things that we attain the great art 
of having as little misery, and as much happiness, as pos- 
f'.bie. — Ur. Johnson 



Once upon a time, it seems, there was an heifer, with 
which every thing in nature seemed to disagree. The more 
she ate the thinner she grew — the more her mother licked 
her hide, the rougher and the more staring was her coat- 
not a (ly in the forest would bite her — never was sive 
seen to chew the cud — but hide-bound and melancholy, 
her hips seemed actually to be protruding from her skin. 
What was the matter with her no one knew — what could 
cure her no one could divine — in short, deserted by her 
master and her species, sh'e was, as the faculty would term 
it, given up. 

In a few weeks, however, she suddenly reappeared 
among the herd, with ribs covered with flesh — eyes like a 
deer — skin sleek as a mole's — breath sweetly smelling of 
milk — saliva hanging in ringlets from her jaw! Every 
day seemed to confirm her health ; and the phenomenon 
was so striking, that the herdsman having watched her, 
discovered that regularly every evening she wormed Iter 
way in secret into the forest, until she reached and re- 
freshed herself at a spring of water — haunted by harmless 
serpents, when full grown about four feet in length. 

The circumstance, it seems, had been almost for- 
gotten by the peasant, when a young Nassau lady began 
to show exactly the symptoms of the heifer. Mother, 
sisters, friends, father, all tried to cure her, but in vain ; 
and the physician actually 

Had ta'en Ins leave with sighs and sorrow. 
Despairing of his fee to-morrow, 

when the herdsman, happening to hear of her case, pre- 
vailed upon her at last to try the heifer's secret remedy ; she 
did so, and, in a very short time, to the utter astonishment 
of her friends, she became one of the stoutest young women 
in the duchy. What had suddenly cured one sick lady 
was soon deemed a proper prescription for others, and all 
cases meeting with success, the spring gradually rose into 
notice and repute. I may observe, by-the-by, that even to 
this day, horses are brought by the peasants to be bathed ; 
and I have good authority for believing, that, in cases of 
slight consumption of the lungs (a disorder common 
enough among horses), the animal recovers his flesh with 
surprising rapidity. Nay, I have seen even pigs bathed, 
though I must own that they appeared to have no other 
(Usorder except hunger. — Quarterly Review. 


The Indian Ichneumon is a small creature, in appearance 
between a weasel and a mungoose. It is of infinite use to 
the natives, from its inveterate enmity to snakes, which would 
otherwise render every footstep of the tra\ eller dangejous. 
The proofs of sagacity which I have seen in this little anfhial 
are truly surprising, and afford a beautiful instance of the 
wisdom with which Providence has fitted the powers of 
every animal, to its particular situation on the globe. This 
diminutive creature, on seeing a snake ever so large, will 
instantly dart on it and seize it by the throat, provided he 
finds himself in an open place, where he has an opportunity 
of running to a certain herb, which he knows instinctively 
to be an antidote against the poison of the bite, if he should 
happen to receive one. I was present at an experiment 
tried at Columbo, to ascertain the reality of this circum- 
stance. The Ichneumon, procured for the purpose, was 
first shown the snake in a close room. On being let down 
to the ground, he did not discover any inclination whatever 
to attack his enemy, but ran prying about the room, to 
discover if there was any hole or aperture by which he 
might get out. On finding none, he returned hastily to 
his master, and placing himself in his bosom, could not by 
any means be induced to quit it, or face the snake. On 
bemg carried out of (?lie house, how'ever, and laid near his 
antagonist in an open place, he instantly fiew at the snake 
and soon destroyed it. He then suddenly disappeared for 
a few minutes, and agam returned as soon as he had found 
the herb and eaten of it. This useful instinct impels the 
animal to have recourse to the herb on all occasions, where 
it is engaged with a snake, whether poisonous or not. 
The one employed in this experiment was of the harmless 
kind, and procured for the purpose. Percival's Ceylon. 




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Voi,. IV 



[February 22, 


Thk City of Gloucester is said to have been called 
by the ancient Britons Caerglow, The Fair City, 
from its fine, healthy situation, and the beauty of 
its buildings. This name was changed by the Romans 
into Glevuni, or Gleva, to which the Saxons, as was 
their frequent custom, added cester, which means a 
castle or fortification, and called it Glev-cester, whence 
its present name is easily derived. 

The Cathedral is an ancient and noble fabric. Its 
tower is considered one of the handsomest and most 
curious pieces of Gothic architecture in England. 
Our readers will perceive by the engraving, that it 
consists of two stories, of equal height, and that it 
is richly ornamented. The upper story terminates 
in a parapet with battlements, and from the cor- 
ners rise light and graceful pinnacles, but of great 

Before, however, we enter into the particulars of 
the present building, we will furnish a short account 
of the ancient Abbey, on the site of which the 
Cathedral stands. Wulphere, the first Christian 
king of Mercia, began the Abbey of St. Peter's, 
Gloucester; and Ethelred, his brother and successor, 
who was afterwards a monk, carried on and finished 
it about the year 680. It was originally governed 
by abbesses, the first of whom was Kyneburg, the 
wife of Aldred, king of Northumberland. After 
the death of the third abbess, which happened in 
767, and during the wars which followed between 
the rival kings of Wessex and Mercia, the nuns 
left their monastery. It continued desolate till about 
823, when it was restored. King Canute, in 1022, 
having turned out the secular monks, placed in it 
monks of the Benedictine Order, appointing Edric 
the first Abbot. Next to him, Aldred, Bishop of 
Worcester, greatly added to the monastery, having 
pxdled down the old church, and built a new one 
nearer the walls of the town. In 1087 this new 
Minster, as it was called, was burnt, with a large 
portion of the city, by the adherents of Robert, 
Duke of Normandy. But though it was quickly 
restored, it was again burnt in 1101, a casualty 
which occvurred repeatedly afterwards ; but it was, 
probably, on no occasion entirely destroyed to the 

The Abbots had great power, and sat in the 
House of Lords as Peers of the Realm Under 
them were numerous officers belonging to the monas- 
tery, and the number of monks residing in it, in 
1104, amounted to a hundred. It is recorded, that 
on the occasion of the horrible murder of Edward 
the Second at Berkeley Castle, in 1327, the Abbot 
(Thokey), hearing of it, assembled his convent, 
and accompanied by them in their full robes, and 
by the greater portion of the inhabitants of Glou- 
cester, went in a procession to Berkeley, and brought 
away the corpse of the murdered king. It was 
afterwards privately, and decently, buried in the 
Abbey. His son, Edward the Third, erected a fine 
monument to his memory, and founded a chantry on 
the spot where he was buried. The circumstance of 
Edward's having been so " cruelly butchered in 
Berkeley Castle," which fills one of the most painful 
and affecting pages of the history of England, proved, 
in its result, a source of extraordinary profit to the 
Abbey of Gloucester. The city was hardly large 
enough to contain the numbers of people who 
arrived with offerings at the ill-fated monarch's 
shrine ; and from that period may be dated the 
origin of the Cathedral as it now appears. The 
cross-aisle was built by Abbot Wygemore (1330), 
oat of these oblations. 

Succeeding Abbots continued to add to the work, 
particularly Walter Froucester, who died in 1412, 
after having made the spacious and handsome clois- 
ters; and Abbot Seabroke, who pulled down the old 
tower, and began to build the present beautiful one; 
he also paved the choir. He died in 14,57, and was 
buried in the chapel on the south-west end of the 
choir, where his monument appears, with his figure 
in alabaster. In this Abbot's time, the New Inn, in 
Northgate Street, was built by one of the monks, 
who had an underground passage made from the 
Inn to the Abbey, which passage still remains, but is 
walled up at both ends. The inn was built for the 
benefit of the Abbey, and for the reception of pil- 
grims. The last Abbot was William Parker, who 
was elected in 1514; before quitting his office, he 
vastly improved the Cathedral, and the premises 
attached to it. His monumental effigy, with the 
mitre and crosier, may be seen in the chapel on the 
north side of the choir. The establishment continued 
to be governed by Abbots, till the Reformation in 
the reign of Henry the Eighth, when its income, 
according to Dugdale, was upwards of 1900/. At 
the suppression of the Abbey, Henry made Gloucester 
a Bishopric, and the Abbey Church became a 

The second person consecrated Bishop of Glou- 
cester, after the Reformation, was John Hooper, 
who subsequently became Bishop of Worcester, 
holding both dioceses together. But this did not 
last long; as on the accession of Mary, Hooper was 
marked out for the first sacrifice, by Gardiner and 
Bonner, who disliked him, on accoimt of his former 
opposition to them. Accordingly, after remaining 
for some time in prison, he was brought before 
Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, and several others, 
at St. Mary Overy's Church, (now St. Saiaour's 
Southwark,) and there condemned as an heretic. 
This was in January, 1554-5. He was soon removed 
to Gloucester, and on February 9th, this martyr to 
the truth was burnt, near an elm-tree without the 
gate, on the north-west side of the lower church- 

The dimensions of the Cathedral, as stated by 
Dugdale are as follow : — 

Total length and breadth . . 
Length of the Nave . . . 
Length of the Choir . . . 
Length of our Lady's Chapel 
Height of the Tower . . . 

420 feet by 144. 
171 feet. 

140 feet, (86 feet high.) 
90 feet by 30. 
225 feet. 
148 feet by 141. 

To each of these we will shortly advert in their order. 
The Nave of this beautiful Church consists of a 
middle-aisle and two side-aisles, separated from the 
middle by two rows of pillars, eight on each side, seven 
of which are round, and are about seven yards in 
circumference ; the eighth is fluted. On entering the 
Choir from the nave, the view is exceedingly fine. 
This part of the structure, indeed, includes every 
perfection to which Gothic architectiu-e had attained 
during the fifteenth century. In 1741, during the 
removal of an old stone screen, which divided the 
nave from the choir, the bodies of three Abbots were 
discovered, in stone coffins, part of the gloves and 
dress still remaining. In 1820, the present screen 
was added, and certain judicious alterations and im- 
provements were adopted. 

Extending from one side of the choir to the other 
is the famous Whispering-Gallery, built in the 
form of an octagon. If a person whispers at one 
side, every syllable may be clearly heard on the other 
side, which is seventy-five feet distant, although the 
passage is open in the middle, and there are large 





|;)enings in the wall for a door and window. In the 
[iddle of the whispering-place are these verses : 
Doubt not but God, who sits on high, 
Thy secret prayers can hear. 
When a dead-wall thus cunningly 
Conveys soft whispers to the ear. 
bout the choir are twelve chapels, dedicated to the 
Twelve Apostles. Under the church is the charnel- 
house, in which are large quantities of bones piled 
up. Here, also, are four chapels, in the altar-places 
of which some piscince, or ba.sins for the sacred water, 
are yet to be seen. Our Lady's Chapel, as it is 
called from the Virgin Mary, is the latest part of 
the church in date. It has been used for early 
morning prayers since the time of the seats being 
removed thither from the choir, when that was 
beautified. At the cast end is a fine high altar; and 
a large window, of curiously-painted glass; but 
the figures are now effaced. This chapel is said to 
have been once richly and expensively adorned. The 
battlements which were upon it were destroyed 
during the disturbances of the Commonwealth. The 
lofty and elegant Tower, to which we have already 
alluded, has a peal of eight bells : it is stated in a 
small but good account of the Cathedral, printed at 
Gloucester, that the chimes play to the following 
verses by Dr. Jeffries : if the poetry is humble, the 

Kntiraents at least are excellent. 
Hauk! Iiark! Iiovv swift the minutes fly; 
And we not yet prepared to die. 
The chiming clocks repeat their sound. 
To warn poor mortals to the ground. 
By day, by night, or in the morning, 
Peath strikes his dart, without a warning; 
How quick, how quick, the dreary call ! 
The moments Hy, and we must fall. 

Awake, awake, thou drowsy mon. 
And haste to put thy garments on. 
Bring out thy team, while 1 fetch mine, 
And call up UoU to milk the kine. 
G»e, Dobhin, gee, the clock strikes eight, 
And we shall hear the chimes go straight  
At eight, at one, again at five. 
They warn us to repent and live! 

If w-e repent, and love, and fear, 

We're sure to find, our God is near; 

O let us, then, do all we can, 

For He will bless the husbandman. 

Dangers attend us, from the womb. 

Anil aching cares point to the tomb; 

O then, it is but just and right, 

To pray at morn, at noon, at night; 

That, when we leave this world of sorrow, 

We may be happy on the morrow. 

The great Cloisters are well worthy of notice for 
their beauty and extent. On the south side are 
twenty seats, originally intended for the monks. 
Oliver Cromwell, when he marched his army to 
Gloucester, disgraced this place, but himself and 
his memory still more, by making it a stable for his 

We will conclude this memoir with a list of several 
of the eminent persons who have been buried in 
Gloucester Cathedral ; though with regard to a few 
of the first named, uncertain tradition can be the 
only authority for the statement. 

Arviragus, King of Britain, of whom it is said that he 
was converted to Christianity by Joseph of Arimathea, and 
that \u; died and was buried at Gloucester, a.d. 74 

Lucii's, the great grandson of the preceding, and king 
of Britain, who, a.d. I 79, appointed a bishop at Gloucester. 
The orif;inal church of St. Peter's, Cornliill, London, is 
reported to have been founded by him, or at least in his 
reign, about 1653 years ago! Fuller, in liis Church History, 
says that Lucius budt a church at Gloucester. 

OsHiCK, King of Northumberland (died 729); Kyne- 
KURO, his sister, first abbess; Eadburg, and her sister, 
EvAH, second and third abbesses'; Prince Ethelrkd (died 
90S), and his wife, Elflkda, (920.) Abbot Skrlo (1 104), 
chaplain to William the First. Abbot Aldred, who built 
the old church, (1058.) Rohert Curthoisk, Duke of 

Normandy, eldest son of William the First • he died at Car- 
diff Castle, in 1134, altera confinement thereof twenty- 
six years. His effigy, curiously carved in Irish oak, lying 
at length, cross-legged, remained perfect till 1041, when 
the parliamentary soldiers broke it in pieces. The pieces 
were, however, bought by Sir Humphry Tracy, and at the 
Restoration refitted and fresh painted. Near him lies his 
brotlier, RichardCurthoise. Humphrey BoHUN.Earlof 
Hereford (1276), and his %vife. King Edward the Second, 
(murdered 1327.) Abbot Seabroke (died 1457), and 
Parker, (last Abbot.) Bishop Miles Smith (died IG24), 
called, from his learning, particularly his vast knowledge 
of the Latin, Greek, and Eastern languages, "the Walking 
Library. " He was one of the persons appointed by King 
James the First, to examine the new translation of the 
Bible. He also translated the four greater and the twelve 
lesser Prophets, and composed the preface whicdi now ap- 
pears before our Church Bibles. He was lamented by the 
pooj, to whom he had been a kind friend. General 
Crawford (killed at the siege of Hereford, 1649.) Judge 
Powell, praised by Swift for his good nature and wit, 
(died 1713.) The pious Bishop Benson (died 1752), 
who expended the greater part of iiis income in relieving 
the poor, and to wliose memory, on a fine marble menu 
ment, is a beautiful inscription, for which we regret we 
have not room. Dean Tucker, an eminent writer (died 
1799.) The learned Bishop Warburton (died 1779.) &c. 

One of the most interesting monuments in the 
cathedral is that to the memory of Mrs. Morley, who 
died in childbirth, at sea, on her way from India to 
this country, aged 29. Besides the inscription re- 
cording the event, the following passage from the 
Revelation (xx. 13,) is placed on the upper part of 
the monument : — And the Sea gave up the dead which 
were in it." 

Many might be mentioned besides, but our limits 
preclude us from doing more than alluding to two 
other memorials of the departed great and good. In 
the body of the Cathedral is a very beautiful monu- 
ment to the late excellent Rev. R. Raikes, a native 
of Gloucester ; as well as a fine statue to one of 
the noblest benefactors to his race that ever lived, — 
we mean Dr. Edward Jenner, " the discoverer 
of "Vaccinaticm," who died at Berkeley, his native 
place, January 26, 1823, and was buried in Glou- 
cester Cathedral. 

A profligate young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by 
him barefoot, " Father," says he, " you are in a very mise- 
rable condition if there is not another world." "True, 
Son," said the hermit, "but what is thy condition if there be?" 

HoTT gloomy would be the mansions of the dead to him, 
who did not know that he should never die ; that what now 
acts shall continue its agency, and what now thinks shall 
think on for ever. Dr. Johnson. 

Some months before his death, Sir Henry Wotton became 
retired and contemplative ; in which time he was often 
visited by a friend, to whom upon an occasion he spake 
to this purpose: "I have, in my passage to my grave, 
met with most of those joys of which a discoursive soul 
is capable ; and been entertained with more inferior plea- 
sures than the sons of men are usually made partakers 
of: nevertheless, in this voyage I have not always floated 
on the calm sea of content ; but have often met with cross 
winds and storms, and with many troubles of mind and 
temptations to evil. And yet, though I have been, and am 
a man compassed about with human frailties. Almighty 
God hath by his grace prevented me from making shipwreck 
of faith and a good conscience; the thought of which is 
now the joy of my heart, and I most humbly praise him for 
it : and I humbly acknowledge that it was not myself, but 
he that hath kept me to this great age, and let him take 
the glory of his great mercy. And, my dear fi-iend, I now 
see that I draw near my harbour of death ; that harboiu' 
that will secure me from all the future storms and waves 
of this restless world ; and I praise God I am willing to 
leave it, and expect a bettej- ; that world wherein dwelleth 

righteousness ; and I long for it !" Walton's Life. 






The country inhabited by the Koords is a district of 
central Asia, known by the name of Koordistan. It is 
situate on the confines of Persia and Turkey, and is 
bounded on the north by Armenia, on the west by the river 
Tigris, on the east by the plains of the Persian provinces, 
Irak and Aderbijan, and on the south by the Turkish 
territories of Bagdad. The tract comprised wiihin these 
limits is Koordistan, properly so called ; but scattered 
tribes of Koords are to be found dispersed over a much 
wider extent of country. The general face of the soil may 
be soon described. It is almost one immense cluster of 
small mountains, occasionally intersected by loftier ranges, 
on the summits of which, as in every other part of Asia, 
there are table-lands, which, from their extreme elevation, 
are subject to intense cold. 

The most remarkable feature in the character of this 
people is the savage independence which they have ever 
maintained, during the course of twenty-three centuries. 
In the time of Xenophon, who mentions them under the 
name of the Kardoucnoi, " they were a warlike nation, 
and not subject to the king;" and the same description is 
equally applicable to them at the present day. Their 
mountain-chiefs have indeed generally acknowledged the 
authority of a paramount lord ; but his supremacy has 
never extended to the right of interference in the internal 
gtvernment of their country. As they form a frontier of 
separation between Turkey and Persia, their political 
allegiance is divided between the rulers of those empires. 
The southern and western districts profess to be subject to 
the Turkish government, while those that are situated 
more to the north and east, declare themselves to be under 
the protection of the king of Persia. The Ottoman Sultan, 
being less able than the Persian monarch to coerce the 
payment of tribute, or to exact military service, is, there- 
fore, favoured with by far the laiger share of this unpro- 
ductive allegiance. 

The Koords have never been united under one ruler, 
but the chief of each tribe exercises all the functions of a 
sovereign within his awn territory. By far the most 
powerful of these feudatories is the Waly, or Prince, of 
Ardelan, a large province of Persian Koordistan. " My 
country," to use his own woi'ds, when addressing Sir John 
Malcolm in 1810, " is above two hundred miles in length, 
and nearly as much in breadth. We owe and pay alle- 
giance to the kings of Persia, but we are exempted from 
that severity of rule which often ruins our neighbours, who 
pofisess rich plains and wealthy cities. Ardelan presents 

little temptation to an invader. It abounds in nothing," 
added he, smiling, " but brave men and hardy horses." 

The habits of the Koords are those of other pastoral 
tribes in Asia. The mountains afford food for their flocks, 
in which their wealth mainly consists, and a secure abode 
for themselves and their families. They descend to the 
plains in the early spring to cultivate the land, and in 
summer to reap the harvest. The products of the soil are 
various ; the valleys are highly fruitful, and, besides grain 
of various sorts, yield large crops of flax, cotton, tobacco, 
and manna, which is here the substitute for sugar. 

But the grand distinguishing characteristic of the 
Koords, is their inordinate and determined spirit of 
plunder. With them plundering is a natural occupation ; 
and every unhappy stranger, whom chance or curiosity 
throws in their way, they regard as their lawful prey. 
Should the unfortunate being happen to be poor and 
ragged, he is severely beaten for not having brought suffi 
cient property to make him worth robbing. They are not 
only daring robbers, but skilful thieves ; and their boldness 
is solely equalled by their address. Sir John Malcolm, on 
his mission to the Court of Persia in 1810, had scarcely 
set foot in their territory, when he was attacked, in spite of 
his imposing appearance, and his numerous attendants. 
Captain Keppel was closely watched for several miles, and 
narrowly escaped a similar visitation. Mr. Buckingham 
was less fortuUKte ; a contribution of 2500 piastres (about 
12.1^ sterling), was levied on the caravan by which he 
journeyed, before it was allowed to proceed. 

The authority of the chiefs of Koordistan is exercised with 
mildness, and obeyed with cheerfulness. Its enforcement 
is, in all cases, attended by an extreme regard to the 
national customs and prejudices. A remarkable instance 
of this occurred when Sir John Malcolm visited Persia in 
1810. " I was encamped," he says, " at a village called 
ZaghS, situated within twenty-five miles of Sennah, the 
capital of Ardelan. The officer who attended as Mehmanrlar, 
or ' entertainer,' to the mission, on the part of the Waly, 
informed me, that a man of the tribe of Soorsoor (some 
families of which were encamped within a mile), had, the 
day before, murdered his father. He will, (rf course, be 
put to death," I observed. " I do not think he will," said 
the MehmSndar ; " he is himself heir, and there is no one 
to demand his blood." " Will not the prince of the 
country take care that this parricide does not escape?" 
" The Waly," he cooly replied, " cannot interfere in a case 
like this, unless appealed to ; and, after all," said he. 




" if the affair be agitated, the murder will be compounded. 
Among Koords, who are always at war," he added, " the 
life of an active young man is much too valuable to be 
taken away on account of a dead old one !" 

There are several cities in Koordistan, but the military 
triTjes of that country seldom congregate in large encamp- 
ments. The prince of Ardelan lives in great luxury and 
splendour in his capital, whose inhabitants mostly appear 
to enjoy affluence. Their condition presents a striking 
contrast with that of the neighbouring rude population, 
who glory in their wild freedom ; and while they rejoice in 
the state and magnificence of the prince and chiefs to 
whom they owe hereditary allegiance, look down with pity 
and contempt on the less-warlike, but more civilized com- 
munity, by whom their rulers are immediately surrounded. 
Knowledge they have ever despised, and religion is scarcely 
known among them. They profess, indeed, the faith of 
Mahomet, but are, in general, as regardless of its sub- 
Rtance as of its ceremonies. Sii- John Malcolm found 
fijrty families of Nestorian Christians residing in Sennah, 
tiie heads of which, with their pastor, visited him. " There 
were," says the Author of Sketches of Persia, " many of 
the same sect, the good priest informed us, in Koordistan, 
who had resided there ever since its separation from the 
Greek Church, a period of thirteen centuries; as for him- 
self and his little flock," he added, " they had a small 
cliurch at Sennah, and were, as their fatliers had been, 
not oiiU' tolerated, but protected by the princes of Ardelan." 

The costume of the Koords is picturesque in the ex- 
treme. The lively and varied colours of their dresses, 
composed of cloth, silks, and velvets, far exceed the 
sombre hues of the Persian cottons and s'heep-skins. Their 
persons are equally striking, especially in the countenance, 
which has an originality and ferociousness of air quite 
charactoristic. Their general appearance may be fairly 
estimated from the illustration prefixed to this article, 
which contains the portraits of three of them that were 
sketched by Mr. Morier, who tells us, that the man with a 
spear in his hand was called Okous, " bull," on account 
of his great strength. 

Gratitl'dk. — A Swedish Colonel, by an accidental fire 
which consumed his house, lost the whole of his property. 
Some time aflcr, a lottery was set on foot by his friends, to 
reimburse him. In the opening of this business, a letter 
arrived from Pomerania, enclosing one hundred and fifty 
rix-doUars, without the name of any donor, but with a 
short note, reijuesting that the Colonel would remember 
" the broken punch-bowl. ' It was a long time before he 
could unravel this mystery ; but at last, he recollected that 
many years before, being in a tavern where there was a 
great concourse of people and much rejoicing, a female 
servant dropped from her hands a large China punch-bowl 
full of punch. Her mistress, in violent anger, threatened 
her with instant dismissal, and that she should be sent 
to prison if she did not make good the loss: upon which 
the Colonel interceded in behalf of the poor girl, and him- 
self paid for the damage which had been sustained. This 
curious anecdote becoming the subject of conversation in 
Stockholm, at length reached the ears of the King. Gus- 
tavus the Fourth was much pleased with it, and sent a 
present of one thousand rix-doUars, with this message : 
" I am aware that the Colonels friends have instituted 
a lottery upon his account. It is prohibited by the laws, 
to undertake any lottery without previous permission from 
tlie master of the police. Tell the Colonel I know that 
officer ; that he is an humane and polite man, not likely to 
refuse a reasonable request ; it is my wish that the Colonel 
should ask his permission for the lottery, that I may be 
enabled to bear a part in it." Dr. E. D. Clarke. 

He that sins against men may fear discovery, but he who 
sins against God is sure of it. Jones of Nay land. 

WHEff Dr. Johnson had been defamed in the isle of Sky 
by the state of the weather, he was suddenly roused, at 
being told that the wind was fair, and the vessel in which 
he was to embark, ready to sail. He immediately, with 
composure and solemnity, repeated the observation of 
Epictetus, that, " as man has the voyage of death before 
him, whatever may be his employment, he should be ready 
at the master's call; and an old man should never be far 
fVom the shore, lest he should not be able to get himself 



We lately* gave some account of the zealous and 
indefatigable Oberlin. To that account it may not 
be an unsuitable supplement, if we now add a short 
memoir of one who professed to consider Oberlin as 
" his delight and his model." This was Felix NefF, 
Pastor of the High Alps, in Dauphine. But it may 
render his history more intelligible, and, perhaps, 
more interesting, if we first say a few words, both of 
the people among whom he exercised his ministry, 
and of the local circumstances of the region where 
his lot was cast. 

Our readers, then, must carry themselves in fancy 
to the lofty Alps that separate France from Italy. 
In the descent from these mountains, on either side, 
there lie embosomed deep and secluded valleys, in 
which, it appears, there have existed, from very 
early ages of the Gospel, generations of Christians, 
who have professed the faith of Christ as they 
received it from the mouth of their first instructors, 
and uncontaminated by the later corruptions of the 
church of Rome. Of these Alpine professors of 
primitive Christianity, the inhabitants of the valleys 
on the Italian side have been the more notorious, 
both from the long and severe persecutions to which 
they were once subjected, and also from some in- 
teresting and popular works which, from time to 
time have been written concerning them. They are 
well known under the name of the Vaudois ,- although 
it is still a common mistake, in respect to this 
people, to adopt the calumnious statement of their 
adversaries, that they are a sect which took its rise 
from Peter Waldo, of Lyons, in 1172 ; whereas, the 
truth is, they never submitted to the authority of 
Rome, they never recognised her unscriptural prin- 
ciples and practices, but have constantly and strenu- 
ously resisted them, whenever any attempt has been 
made to impose so grievous a yoke upon their necks. 

The Alpines of the French side of the mountains, 
although professing mainly the same principles with 
their brethren of Piedmont, and equally a race of 
primitive Christians, have, however, been less cele- 
brated. It is not that they have not had their 
persecutions ; for, from early times of the papal 
ascendency until 1786, the ecclesiastical sword was 
perpetually whetted against them. Their want of 
celebrity must principally be attributed to the for- 
bidding nature of the country which they inhabited. 
The valleys of Piedmont are fertile and smiling in 
comparison ; and, compared with any thing that we 
are accustomed to see, — compared even with the Ban 
de la Roche of Oberlin, the region of NefF's ministry 
— is, beyond measure, savage and appalling. The 
higher parts are covered with perpetual snows. In 
descending, the traveller sees naked rocks towering 
to the skies, and hears the torrent thundering in the 
deep abyss beneath ; even where the valleys become 
more broad and open, the few sterile fields hang over 
precipices, and are encumbered with enormous blocks 
of granite rolled down from the cliffs above ; and 
the pasturages are, many of them, inaccessible to 
cattle, and scarcely safe for sheep. In this wild 
region the natives are poor and uncultivated ; their 
manners rude ; their persons and their habitations 
squalid ; and every accommodation and comfort, 
rendered almost necessary to the inhabitants of 
polished countries, is entirely unknown. It cannot 
be a matter of surprise, that these poor mountaineers 
have had few strangers to visit them, — few historians 
to search their annals, and to commemorate their 
virtues. And to the Rev. W. S. Gilly, who has, of 

• SuturHay Magazine, Vol. III., p. 246. 



I February 22, 

late years, taken so active a part in his researches 
among the Vaudois, we are under an additional obli- 
gation for ha%ing, also, made us familiarly acquainted 
with the French Protestants of Dauphine, Provence, 
and Languedoc. 

To undertake the charge of such a field must have 
required no ordinary measure of zeal ; but such was 
the zeal possessed by Felix Neff. This extraordinary 
man was born of humble parents, in the neighbour- 
hood of Geneva, in the year 1798. His first em- 
ployment was that of a gardener; he afterwards 
entered into the military service, and attained the 
rank of a serjeant of artillery ; but he soon resolved 
to dedicate himself to the Christian ministry. For 
this he prepared himself by study, reflection, and 
prayer ; and it is probable, that his inbred love for 
the wilder scenes of nature co-operated with his 
anxiety for a field of extensive usefulness, in causing 
him to exult with joy, on receiving the appointment 
to the spiritual care of the Protestant villages of the 
section of Arvieux, in the High Alps. This was in 
the year 1823, in the 26th year of his age. 

We have already given some general notion of the 
region where Nelf was placed ; but there were some 
peculiar difficulties attached to his situation that 
should not be unnoticed. Some dozen or fourteen 
villages were subjected to his pastoral care, but these 
crept up the banks of the various streams that 
descended from the mountains ; and so widely were 
they scattered, that, from the house provided for the 
pastor at La Chalp, he had to travel 1 2 miles to the 
west, 60 to the east, 20 to the south, and 33 to the 
north, when his services were required by the people 
at the extremity of his parish. These journeys Neff 
generally performed on foot, with his staff in his 
hand and his wallet on his shoulder, and over roads 
the most rugged, precipitous, and unsafe. In par- 
ticular, he had often to traverse the Pass of the Guil, 
one of the most sublime, as also one of the most 
dangerous, of the Alpine defiles, where several 
travellers are known to lose their lives every year. 
On his arrival at any of his villages, after these 
fatiguing journeys, he was, indeed, received with 
enthusiastic welcome by the simple inhabitants; but 
the fare and accommodation that awaited him were 
of the meanest kind. For the various ministerial 
offices which he wished to perform, but few of his 
villages could afford a church. After long exposure 
to the keen blasts of the mountains, he often had to 
endure the suffocating heat of a stable, where he was 
obliged to assemble his congregation ; — a table being 
placed for the minister, some forms or chairs were 
brought for the rest, all sitting, with a thick carpet of 
manure under their feet, while two or three lamps, 
suspended on strings, threw their light on the plain- 
featured and plainly-attired group, and showed the 
cattle ranged in the manger behind. 

Yet, amid all these discouragements, Neff pur- 
sued his course with indefatigable diligence, and 
also with consummate prudence. Like Oberlin, he 
felt the importance of improving the temporal con- 
dition of these forlorn people. He taught them bet- 
ter modes of gardening and tillage, and amended 
some of their domestic and personal habits. Like 
Oberlin, he, also, had prejudices to encounter ; and 
he achieved no easy victory when, after much con- 
tradiction, he persuaded his people to try a new 
process of irrigating their meadows. Neff, too, found 
it necessary to labour with his own hands ; and, on 
the occasions of his building, first a church at Vio- 
lens, and afterwards a school-house at Dormilleuse, 
he was seen, not only superintending and directing 
the operations of smiths, and carpenters, and masons, 

but working in person in levelling the ground, 
wielding the line and plmnmet, and even carrying 
on his shoulders large stones to be used in the 
erection of the building. 

These labours were, however, altogether subser- 
vient to his great purpose of promoting the spiritual 
improvement of his people, and were undertaken 
only as he could spare time from his pastoral occu- 
pations of preaching, of catechizing, and of visiting 
from hamlet to hamlet, and from house to house. 
Neff dealt but little in controversy ; and there is a 
pleasing account of his journeying for some time 
with a Roman Catholic clergyman, and producing a 
strong impression upon his mind, without exciting 
the least suspicion in his companion, that he had 
been conversing with an opponent in religious prin- 
ciples. But, if his theology was not controversial, it 
was eminently spiritual. He had declined to receive 
ordination in his native state of Geneva, on account 
of the departure of that Church from the ancient 
principles of the Gospel, and of its tendency even to 
deny the Divinity of Jesus Christ. In this, as in all 
the peculiar and distinctive doctrines of the Chris- 
tian Religion, Neff was most decided and strenuous 
in his belief : and it was with the view to imprint the 
same principles on the mind of his parishioners, that 
he undertook his incessant and exhausting labours. 
In order to accommodate his instructions to each 
particular case, he made himself acquainted with 
individuals, with their dispositions, their tastes, and 
their habits. With a view to keep alive in their 
minds the flame of piety, he promoted among them 
associations for prayer and for reading the Bible, an 
arrangement which, although often of a very ques- 
tionable nature, was, perhaps, rendered advisable by 
the peculiar circumstances of his flock, which could 
so seldom receive the visits of its pastor. With the 
same view, he gave encouragement to the practice 
of sacred music ; and he established small dep6ts of 
the Bible and of religious books, especially Nardin's 
Sermons, for circulation and sale among his people. 

We have already seen, with what readiness, on 
his arrival at any of the hamlets, he preached the 
word of God, in the church, if the place afforded 
one, or, as the want of a church more frequently 
made necessary, in any room that could be used 
for the pur[)ose. It was, also, his practice to form 
classes of young persons, whom, in the course of 
his progresses, he might catechize and instruct, 
according to their proficiency, making lists of those 
who had not yet appeared at the Lord's tabfc, 
and preparing them for that solemn ordinance. 
Indeed, it was his first and principal care, to form 
the rising generation ; for which purpose, knowing 
the utter impossibility of giving instruction by his 
own individual labour to so many, he was particularly 
anxious to train up a number of schoolmasters and 
mistresses, whom he might plant in the several 
villages within his verge. Nor, perhaps, can the 
characteristic energy of Neff be better exemplified, 
than by an account of the measures taken by him, 
for this purpose, in the hamlet of Dormilleuse. 

Dormilleuse was the highest of his mountain- 
villages, a spot almost inaccessible, and of unparal- 
leled sterility and savageness. Yet, in this place, 
after having built a school-house, he induced twenty- 
* four young men to pass a winter of severe privation 
aiid rigid confinement, for the purpose of receiving 
his instructions. They were walled up with ice and 
snow. Their fare consisted of a store of salted 
meat, and rye bread, which had been baked in the 
autumn, and, when they came to eat it, was so hard, 
that it required to be chopped up with hatchets, and 




to be moistened with hot water. They studied 
fourteen hours in the day, for five months; and 
their only recreations were to pass from instructions 
in reading, writing, arithmetic, grammar and geo- 
metry, to lectures in geography and music. For 
the purpose of forming this school of future teachers, 
NeflF suspended all his other occupations and pur- 
suits; and prosecuted his work with a patience, 
humility, good humour and perseverance, which 
were beyond all praise, but which had their reward 
in the improvement and in the gratitude of his 
volunteer scholars. 

It is, however, painful to add, that to this enter- 
prise Neff may almost be said, to have sacrificed his 
life. His constitution, which was never strong, and 
had been enfeebled by his incessant toils, seems to 
have sunk under this effort. The spring and sum- 
mer of 1826, were cold and ungenial; and in 
avoiding the danger of an avalanche, or fall of a 
mass of snow, he slipped down, and received a severe 
sprain in his knee. He again attempted, in the 
following winter, to resume the labours of his adult 
school at Dormilleuse. But the effort was too much 
for him; and on the 17th of April, 1827, amid the 
tears of his simple and attached Alpines, he took his 
leave of them, in the hope of recruiting his health, 
but, as the event proved, for ever. He tried the 
effects of a milder climate, and some of the warm 
baths of Switzerland ; but the tone of his stomach, 
and his powers of digestion, were entirely gone: 
and after long sufferings, which he endured with a 
patience and resignation the most exemplary, he 
expired at Geneva, on the 12th of April, 1829, in the 
thirty-second year of his age. 

In comparing NefF with Oberlin, we perceive in 
both, the same disinterestedness, the same bene- 
volence, the same ardour of mind, the same personal 
piety, and devoted zeal to the glory of God. Yet we 
cannot but be struck with the different fate of the 
two men. The career of the Alpine pastor, in all 
its outward circumstances, was dreary and cheerless. 
The picture of his life is not embellished by the neat 
manse and the cultivated garden. We see no father 
surroimded by a blooming family, prolonging his 
existence in health and peace, to an extreme old age, 
and at length carried to the grave, amid the blessings 
of a grateful population. The abode of NefF, when 
it received him, was cheered by no domestic comforts, 
no family endearments. His short ministry, was 
almost entirely migratory; and, sinking xmder the 
fatigue of his incessant and laborious routine of 
duty, he breathed his last at an early age, far 
removed from the objects of his fond love and 
earnest solicitude. The decrees of Divine Provi- 
dence assign to different individuals, a varying 
measure of success and prosperity in this life. Yet 
the example of Neff, happy and animated, even in 
the midst of his severest toils, by the recollection of 
the holy cause in which he was engaged, can hardly 
be without its effect, in stimulatirig every soldier and 
servant of Christ to like zeal and devotion. And 
we humbly trust, that he, himself, has now expe- 
rienced the truth of the last words, which his dying 
hand was able to trace : — " I ascend to our Father in 
entire peace ! Victory ! victory ! victory ! through 
Jesus Christ! Felix Neff." 

If any one pretend that he is warranted by the superiority 
of his religious attainments, or the spirituality of his cha- 
racter, to be negligent in attending the outward ordinances 
of religion, let him learn better things from his Saviour, 
who was obedient unto the law, and submitted to " fulfil all 
righteousness :" and so let him be admonished, whilst the 
higher duties of religion are done by him, not to leave the 
others undone. — Bishop Mant. 

V. Thor. 

Horrid king, besmeared witll blood 

Of liuman siicrittce, .lud parents' tears. MiLTOH. 

The Saxons appear to have engrafted much of the 
ancient Roman idolatry upon their own ; a circum- 
stance which probably arose from the influence of 
Roman arts and arms in Germany, during the govern- 
ment of some of the Cfesars. Not that the deities were 
the same, or borrowed by one country from the other, 
but that the more savage people conformed themselves, 
in many respects, to the more powerful and refined, 
ascribing the character and attributes of the Roman 
idols to their own. This produced great confusion : 
Woden was sometimes called Mercury, while the 
temper and offices assigned to him, were those of 
Mars; and Thor, the son of Woden, was changed 
into Jupiter. Indeed, tremendous as we showed 
Woden to have been in the eyes of the Saxons, his 
son Thor, the subject of our present paper, seems, 
like Jupiter, to have had a place of honour assigned 
to him in some of the Northern nations higher than 
that belonging to his father. Among them was a 
temple richly adorned with gold, in which were ex- 
posed to view the three idols, Woden, Thor, and Friga. 
The chief of these was Thor, who sat on a couch, with 
a crown on his head and a sceptre in his hand, having 
the other two, one on each side, but at such a distance, 
that the couch appeared especially intended for him. 
As the best service of devotion which they thought 
they could offer to Thor, these misguided creatures 
sacrificed human beings at his shrine ! 

How awful is it to reflect, that in the idolatrous 
worship of certain regions, even in the present days, 
scenes are presented, as senseless and appalling 
as ever disgraced the periods of ancient darkness ! 
In that valuable work, the Rev. Dr. Buchanan's 
Christian Researches in Asia, in 1806, we meet with a 
description of the idol called Juggernaut, or Jagga- 
niltha, the nature of whose worship does not yield in 
wickedness and folly to Woden or to Thor. It rather 
surpasses it. There are, indeed, some striking points 
of resemblance between the representation given of 
the false Indian deity, and that of the Saxon Thor. 

Dr. Buchanan writes : " I have seen Juggernaut. No 
record of ancient or modern history can give, I think, an 
adequate idea of this valley of death ; it may truly be 
compared with the ' valley of Hinnom.' The idol Jugger- 
naut has been considered as the Moloch of the present age ; 
and he is justly so named, for the sacrifices offered up to 
him by self-devotement, are not less criminal, perhaps not 
loss numerous, than those recorded of the Moloch of 
Canaan. This morning I viewed the temple*; a stu- 
pendous fabric, and truly commensurate with the extensive 
sway of ' the horrid king.' " 

These considerations on the darkness and sins of 

paganism, awaken our gratitude at being born in 

a Christian and Protestant land, in which we may 

worship God in spirit and in truth. At the same 

time, they lead us to look forward to that promised 

time, when the Redeemer's kingdom shall have come, 

and the light of Christianity be every where diffused : 

And sullen RIolocli, fled, 
Hath left in shadows dread, 

His burning idol all of blackest hue; 
In vain with cymbals' ring. 
They call the grisly king, 

In dismal dance about the furnace blue : 
The brutish gods of Nile as fast, 
Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste. 
Nor is Osiris seen 
In Memphian grove or green, 

Trampling the unshowered grass, with lowiugs loud . 
Nor ran he be at rest 
Within his sacred chest; 

Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud; 
In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark. 
The ftable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark. 
• See <Saturday Magazine, Vol. I., p. 4. 



TFebruary 22, 1834. 

lie feels from Jidah's land 
The dreaded Infant's hand! 

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; 
Nor all the gods beside 
I.oni^er dare abide, 

Not 1 yphon huge ending in snaky twine, 
Our Habe to show his Godhead true, 
('an in the swaddling bands control the damned crew. 

Milton's Hymn on the Nativity. 

It now remains, in illustration of the print, to add 
the quaint description of it given by Verstegan. 

This jrieat reputed god, being of more estimation than 
many of the rest of like sort, though of as little worth 
as any of the meanest of that rabble, was majestically 
placed in a very large and spacious hall, and there sat, as 
if he had reposed himself upon a covered bed. On his 
head he wore a crown of gold, and round about, and above 
the same, were set twelve bright, burnished, golden stars 
and in his right hand, he held a kingly sceptre. 

He was, of the seduced pagans, believed to be of most 
marvellous power; yea, and that there were no people 
throughout the whole world, that were not subjected unto 
him, and did not owe him divine honour and service. That 
there was no puissance comparable to his. That in the 
air, he governed the winds and the clouds; and, 'ueing 
displeased, did cause lightning, thunder, and tempests, 
with excessive rain, hail, and all ill weather. But, being 
well pleased by the adoration, sacrifice, and service of 
his supplicants, he then bestowed upon them most fair 
and seasonable weather, and caused corn abundantly 
to grow, as also, all sorts of fruits, &c., and kept away 
from them the plague, and all other evil and infectious 

Of the weekly day which was dedicated unto his peculiar 
service, we yet retain the name of Thursday, the which 
the Danes and Swedians do yet call CljOl'^llai); in the 
Netherlands it is called QunlJCfS'OntjI), that is. Thun- 
der »-day, whereby it may appear, that they anciently 
intended the day of the nod of thunder; and in some 
«f our old Saxon books, I find it to have been written 
Ci)UnrtS»lltag;. So it seemeth, that the name of Thor, 
or Thuk, was abbreviated of Thunre, which we now wnte 


The success of the ancient Egyptians in preserving their dpad by 
the operation of embalming, was surprisingly great. For a proof 
dI this we have only to turn to the fact of our viewing at this day, 
the boilies of persons who lived three thousand years since. Thre 
ingenious people applied the powers of art to the purposes of their 
religion, and did all they could to keep the human frame entire 
alter death, fondly thinking that if it proved a fit dwelling, iU 
former inhabitant,- the soul, would return at some distant period* 
and animate it afresh, even upon earth The following Address to 
a Mummy waswritten a fev^' years ago, and attributed to Mr. Roscoej 
but the recent opening of the Mummy of Houmksi, son of Nasfp- 
uiniF.iGoni, a 'I'heban, having called public attention to the subject, 
the lines may be thought, by many of our readers, more than com- 
monly interesting. 

And thou hast walked about, (how strange a story !) 

In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago ; 
When the Memnoninm was in all its glory. 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous. 
Of which the very ruins a'-e tremendous. 
Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy. 

Thou a tongue, come, let us hear its tune ; 
Tliou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground Mummy I 

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon; 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures. 
But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features 
Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect, 

To whom sliould we assign the Sphinx's fame; 
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect. 

Of either pyramid that bears his namel 
Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer^ 
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homerl 
Perhaps thou wen a mason, and forbidden 

By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade. 
Then say what secret melody was hidden 

In Memmon's statue which at sun-rise playedt 
Perhaps thou wert a priest, and hast been dealing, • 
In human blood and horrors past revealing. 
Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat. 

Has hob-a-noblied with Pharaoh, glass to glass; 
Or dropped a half-penny fn Homer's hat. 

Or doff'ed thine own to let Queen Dido pass. 
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
A torch at the great temple's dedication. 
I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed. 

Has any Roman soldier mauled or knuckled. 
For thou wert dead and buried, and embalmed. 

Ere Romulus and Remu? had been suckled ! 
Antiquity appears to have begun. 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 
Thou couklst develop, if that withered tongue 

Wight tell us what those sightless orbs have seen. 
How the world looked when it was fresh and young. 

And the great Deluge still had left it green. 
Or vvasit then so old, that History's pages 
Contained no record of its early agesl 
Still silent, incommunicative elf! 

Art sworn to secrecy t then keep thy vows; 
But pr'ythee tell us sometliing of thyself, 

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; 
Since in the world of spirits thou slumbered. 
What thou hast seen, what strange adventures numbeied ' 
Since first thy form was m this box extended. 

We have, above-ground, seen some strange mutations , 
The Roman empire has begun and ended. 

New worlds have risen, we have lost old nations, 
And countless kings have into dust been humbled. 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 
Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head. 

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 
Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thund'ring tread, 

O'crthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
And sbook the pyramids with fear and wonder. 
When the gigantic Wemmon fell asunder 1 
If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed. 

The nature of thy private life unfold : 
A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast. 

And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled. 
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that lace? 
What was thy name and station, age and race! 
Statue of flesh— Immortal of the dead! 

Imperishable type of evanescence! 
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 
And standest undecayed within our presence. 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning. 
When the great Trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 
Why should this worthless tegument endure. 

If its undying guest be lost for everl 
O let us keep the soul emhalmed and pure 

In living virtue, that, when both must sever. 
Although corruption may our frame consume, 
Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom I 



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Every thing that can tend to illustrate the history of the 
Royal Navy, must always be regarded with feelings of 
the highest interest by Britons. Associated with the most 
brilliant passages of our annals, the essential protection of 
our mercantile enterprise and national prosperity, and 
rendered illustrious by the names and deathless examples 
of a Nelson, a Collingwood, or a Blake, it is difficult to 
reflect on the " wooden walls" of our country, without a 
^ow of enthusiasm, or burst of patriotic feeling. It cannot, 
therefore, be either an uninteresting, or an uninstructive 
task, to trace the rise and progress of the British Navy, 
from the slender " coracles" of the aboriginal inhabitants 
of these islands, to the magnificent structures which float, 
by the aid of science, in majesty on the deep ; and it has 
been our object, as far as could be effected within the limits 
assigned to us in this paper, to concentrate, in a chrono- 
logical narrative, the most important events which have 
distinguished the Naval History of England. 

The subject may properly be divided into three periods. 
In the first we shall embrace the period between the inva- 
sion of Britain by the Romans, and the commencement of 
the reign of Heury the Eighth; the second will end with 
the death of George the Second ; and the third will com- 
prehend what may justly be termed the " golden era" of 
British navul history ; viz., from the accession of George the 
Third to the present time. 

Section I. (B.C. 52, to A.D. 1500.) 
Thk inhabitants of the British isles appear, at an early 
period, to have possessed some acquaintance with maritime 
affairs. We learn from the Welsh Triads, that the ancient 
name of Britain was Clas Merdclin, the " Sea-defended 
green-spot," an appellation (as has been well remarked by 
one of the most eminent of our writers,) which may seem 
Vol.. IV. 

to have been prophetic. At the period of the invasion of 
Britain by the Roman general, Julius Caesar, fifty-two 
years before the commencement of the Christian era, tlie 
Britons, or Cymry, certainly possessed a naval force ; and, 
in an engagement which took place between the Roman 
fleet and that of the Veneti and their allies, the Britons, 
the vessels of the latter are said to have been so firmly 
constructed, that the beaks of the Roman ships could with 
difficulty make any impression on them. These vessels 
were built of oaken planks ; their sails were made of 
skins, and their anclrors were attached to iron chains or 
cables. Tlie barks, however, which were generally used 
by the Britons, were constructed of osier twigs, covered with 
skins, and resembled, in construction, the fragile fishing- 
boats, or coracles, still used on the rivers of Wales. 

Tlie Saxons, who settled in Britain about the middle of 
the fifth century, and who had been previously renowned 
for their piracies at sea, seem to have been impressed with 
the necessity of keeping up a formidable marine. Their 
vessels, we are told by Aneurin, a Welsh bard, " were 
single-masted, carrying one square sail. They had curved 
bottoms, and their prows and poops were adorned with the 
heads and tails of monsters." 

King Alfred, who ascended the throne in 872, has gene 
rally been considered ;is the founder of our maritime power. 
At that time England was overrun by the Danes, and 
Alfred, with the wisdom and sagacity which distinguished 
all his actions, speedily perceived that the most eflFectual 
method of ridding his country of its foes, was by crippling 
their power at sea. He commanded his first fleet in person, 
was extremely successful in his naval engagements, and is 
said to have suggested a variety of improvements in the 
structure, as well as to have greatly increased the size of his 
vessels, some of the largest of which cai-ried at least sixty oars . 




After the death of Alfve;l, the naval power of England 
seems to have lain dormant until the invasion of William 
the Conqueror, in lOBfi. It is true that, in the tenth 
century, we read of the vast Ueets possessed l)y King 
Edgar, hut, like the other naval armaments of the early 
ages, they must chiefiy have been composed of small boats. 
In lOOG William sailed for the coast of England, with a 
lleet of nearly 900 vessels, (of the nature of which the 
en'jraving in the preceding page presents an illustration,) and 
lauding near Pevensey, in Sussex, with an army computed 
at fiO.OOO men, gained, in a few days, the battle of Hastings, 
which led to the rapid subjugation of the whole kingdom. 
The Normans had always manifested considerablj regard 
to the sea, and the position in which the Conqueror was 
placed after gaining the English throne, rendered a strict 
attention to the improvement and extension of the navy a 
matter not only of prudence but of necessity. To contri- 
bute to this result, he gave exclusive privileges to certain 
towns on the coast, which were called the Cinque Ports. 

Richard the First, who bore so distinguished a part in the 
Crusades, fitted out large fleets, one of which he conducted 
from Sicily to the shores of the Holy Land, capturing in 
his progress a large ship of the Saracens, defended by l.'JOO 
men. His successor, John, appears to have devoied con- 
siderable attention to the improvement of the navy. He 
asserted the exclusive right of the English nation to the do- 
minion of the seas, and in the year 1214 issued a mandate 
to his chief admiral, ordering him " to arrest, seize, and make 
prizes of all ships whatever found therein." 

Of the description of vessels generally emidoyed in the 
following reign, some idea may be formed from the lullowing 
account of an action with the French, who " with eighty 
stout ships," threatened a descent on the Kentish coast. 
This squadron being observed by Hubert de Burgh, Gover- 
nor of Dover Castle, he put to sea with forty English 
vessels, and having got to windward of the enemy, and run 
down many of their smaller craft, attacked the others with 
rjuick-lime, " which blinded thom so effectually, that all 
their ships were either taken or sunk." 

The engraving in page 76 represents the class of vessels 
used for the transport of troops and horses to the Mediter- 
ranean dui'ing the Crusades. The ship on shore was 
adapted for the latter purpose ; the opening, or as it was 
styled the " port," (whence the term port-hole,) was caulked 
up after the horses had all been shipped, and was under 
water when the vessel floated. Ships of war seem then to 
have been provided with at least one tower, which was 
called the " castle of the ship." 

In the reign of Edward the- First, the first English 
admiral was appointed, — Roger de Leybourn, Admiralliis 
maris rei/is, a.d. 1297. The reign of Edward the Third, 
(1.327-77,) was greatly distinguished for successes at sea and 
on land, as well as for the advancement of the commercial 
prosperity of the country. The most interesting events in 
this reign, when England began to assume a high rank as a 
naval power, are the battle of Sluys, on the coast of Flan- 
ders, and the siege of Calais. The English fleet off Sluys, 
which was commanded by the king in person, perceiving, 
saith the old chronicler, "on their approach, that the French 
ships were linked together with chains, and that it was im- 
possible for them to break their line of battle, retired a little, 
and stood back to sea. The French, deceived by this feint, 
broke their order and pursued the English, who they thought 
fled before them." The English then engaged, and, after a 
battle which lasted thirteen hours, defeated their opponents 
with immense loss. Thirty thousand French were slain, 
" of whom numbers, through fear, jumped off their own 
craft into the sea, and were miserably drowned : 200 great 
ships were taken, in one of which oidy there were 400 dead 
bodies." This account is evidently greatly exaggerated. 
The armament which was fitted out against Calais in 1347, 
was the largest which had yet quitted England, consisting 
of 7.38 vessels, navigated by 14,95G seamen; twenty ships 
only, however, of this number, belonged to the Royal 
navy. During the siege, which lasted eleven months, the 
allowance "to a marinere for his diet by the daye was iild." 
In the reign of Edward the Third the bowsprit seems first 
to have been used. 

From this period, with the exception of the short, but 
glorious, reign of Heniy the Fifth, until the latter end of 
the fllYeenth century, there is nothing of interest in our 
naval annals. Nautical knowledge, however, was gradually 
extending, and a variety of inventions and inr.provements 
were introduced into the marine. The use of cannon at 
»ea, anil the invention of the compass were the most im- 

portant of these, and to tlie latter may probably he attn 
buted the discovery of the New World. Considerable 
difference of ojiinion has existed amongst naval authors, as 
to the period when cannon were first used in naval warfaie; 
Charnock, generally no mean authority in such matters, 
aflirms that they were not introduced until the reign of 
Henry the Seventh : but there is conclusive authority for 
stating that they were employed for this purpose so early as 
the thirteenth centur)', in a sca-cngagement between the 
king of Tunis and the Moorish king of Seville. They 
were also used by the Venetians at sea about the year 
1380; and Froissart speaks of cannon having been used 
in the Flemish fleet, wdiich was taken off Cadsand, in 1387, 
by the English, under the command of the Earl of Arundel. 
The guns were not then, as now, pointed through embra- 
sures, or port-holes, but were mounted so as to fire from 
the top-side, or gun-wale, of the vessel. 

The engraving at page 77 represents the style of ship- 
ping which prevailed during the principal part of the 
fifteenth century. The poop and forecastle seem to have 
been extremely bulky, and disproportionate in their eleva 
tion. Some of the sails were splendidly adorned with 
armorial bearings ; and we recognise, near the summit of 
the main-mast, the " round top," where the pilots were 
stationed, a term which is yet used in the navy, though 
ai)plied to a part which occupies a very different position 
on the mast. 

Henry the Seventh, on gaining the throne in IJe,!, put the 
navy, which had been greatly neglected, into a resjiectable 
condition. In 1488, a large ship called the Great Hairy, 
which may be properly termed the first ship of the British 
navy, was built at a cost of 14,000^. It had three masts, and 
was accidentally destroyed by fire at Woolwich, in 1553. 

We have now brought down our notices to the reign 
of Henry the Eighth, who may be designated the 
founder of the Royal Navy. Strictly speaking, before 
this period there was no national establishment. In time 
of war, the requisite number of vessels, many of which 
can hardly be considered in any other light than as mere 
transports, were furnished by different sea-ports. Tlie 
Cinque-ports, and their dependencies, (Dover, Hastings, 
Sandwich, Rye, Winchelsea, Hythe and Romney,) on 
condition of certain privileges, were bound by their tenure, 
to furnish the king with fifty-seven (and sometimes a 
much greater number of) ships, each containing twenty- 
one men and a boy, for fifteen days, once in every year, 
free of all charge ; but in case of their being detained for 
longer service, they were paid and victualled by the king ; 
the master of a vessel receiving six-pence, and the seamen 
three-pence a day each. 

Section II. (1509—1760). 
The recent discovery of the vast continent of America, 
gave an extraordinary impulse to maritime affairs, about 
tlie period of the accession of Henry the Eighth. That 
monarch settled by his own prerogative the constitution 
of the Royal Navy ; he founded the dock-yards of 
Woolwich, Deptford, and Portsmouth ; he made laws 
for the planting and preservation of timber; he esta 
blished the " fraternitie," or corporation of the Trinity 
House, for the improvement of navigation and the pro- 
tection of commerce ; he instituted an Admiralty and a 
Navy OfRce, under the direction of commissioners; in- 
creased the salaries of the oftlcers and seamen, and placed 
the naval service, for the first time, on a distinct footing. 
In 1512, considerable advantages were gained by a fleet 
which was fitted out against the French, under Sir Edward 
Howard, the Lord lligh Admiral, whose vessel, the 
Uegent of 1000 tons, which took fire during the action, is 
said to have had a crew of 700 men All the vessels of 
200 tons and upwards, in this fleet, were first called " ships 
royal." Tlie pay of the admiral at this time, was 10*. a 
day; the captains were allowed Is. &d.; and "every 
soldier, mariner and gunner, had 5x. a month for his 
wages, and 5s. for his diet,'' in addition to certain allow- 
ances called dead shares, granted to the fleet. 

In 1515, the Harry Grace de Dieu, of 1000 tons, the 
first double-decked ship ever built in this country, was 
launched at Erith, on the Thames. This vessel mounted 
seventy-two pieces of cannon, of almost all the various 
sizes then in use ; and it was not until the middle of the 
following century, that guns of the same calibre were 
placed on the same deck — an important imprmement. 
Her regular establishment consisted of 349 soldiers, 301 
mariners, and 50 gunners, making altogether, 700 meiv. 



The imposing number of guns parried by the Harry, 
ind other ships at this period, Iwwever, seems to lia\e 
been l^r little else than show ; (or it is mentioned by 
an old writer, as a remarkable circumstance, that in an 
action between a British and French fleet, off St. Helen's, 
in 13-15, " 300 cannon-shot were fired on both sides." 
i Henry the Eighth, was the last English monarch that 
hired foreign ships in time of war; for with all his ex- 
ertions, the Britisli fleet was often partly composed of 
Harabro', Lubec, Dantzic, Genoese, or Venetian auxi- 
liaries. In order to remedy this, as far us it was possible, 
an act was passed to encourage British merchants to build 
ships for their own service, fit for men-yf-\var, enacting, 
that such ships should be exempted from certain duties, 
and that when required for the nation, their owners should 
receive l'2.s. per tun per month, for their use. In 1546, the 
first regular list of the navy was published, from which 
we learn, that it then consisted of "20 shippes, 15 Gal- 
leasses, 10 Pynnaces, and 13 Roo Barges," admeasuring 
12,435 tons, and navigated by 8546 seamen. The expense 
of maintaining the navy in 1549, was under 17,000/. 

Queen Elizabeth, s-ems to have been deeply impressed 
with the truth of her father's maxim, that " whosoever 
commands the sea, commands the trade of the world : and 
that whosoever commands the trade, commands the riclies 
of the world, and, consequently, the world itself. " She 
so greatly encouraged the prosperity of the marine, that 
she justly acquired the distinguished title of " Restorer 
of naval power, and Sovereign of the northern seas. ' 
The most interesting event in this reign, is the defeat 
and dispersion of the invincible Spanish Armada*; it 
consisted of 130 ships, of an aggregate burden of 57,868 
tons, carrying 2,630 pieces of cannon, 19,295 soldiers, and 
navigated by 10,538 mariners and slaves; besides which, 
there was an immense lleet of smaller vessels, loaded with 
stores, and with arms, which it was intended to distribute 
to those by whom the Spaniards hoped to be joined on 
their arrival in England. At this period, the Queen had 
thirtv-four ships in an efficient state, besides eight others 
in dock. The former were of an aggregate burden of 
12,590 tons, and navigated by 6,279 men; the weight of 
metal is not accurately known, but it is supposed, that the 
largest vessel carried about sixty guns. By the aid, how- 
ever, of merchant-vessels, the Queen was enabled to bring 
about 140 ships into service. Tlie English lleet, com- 
manded by Charles Lord Howard, of Effingham, assisted 
by Sir Francis Drake, Sir >Iohn Hawkins, and other illus- 
trious naval heroes, put out from Plymouth, and after 
harassing the Spaniards in their passage up the Channel, 
joined another squadron off Calais, where they came 
to an engagement with the enemy, in which he suffered 
such great loss, that the Spanish Admiral endeavoured 
to retreat to Spain, without attempting to effect any of the 
objects of the expedition. But this design was not per- 
mitted by Providence, for a series of violent storms com- 
pletely broke up and dispersed the remainder of this 
mighty armament, a great portion of which was wrecked 
on the coasts of the British isles ; and more than 20,000 
men are said to have perished, from the effects of war and 
the elements. During the remainder of her reign, Eliza- 
beth greatly harassed the Spaniards at sea. 

Gunpowder, which had previously been imported fram 
abroad, at a great expense, was now first manufactured 
in this country. 

The reign of James the First was one of the most 
inglorious in our naval annals ; but the encouragement 
which had been given to the manne during the preceding 
reign, greatly fanned the flame of naval enterprise and dis- 
covery. Great improvements were also made in the con- 
struction of ships; James the First wisely patronized Phineas 
Pett, who has been styled " the most able and scientific ship- 
wright that this country has ever boasted of: " he reduced 
the cumbrous top-works which had previously disfigured our 
vessels; strengthened them with cross-beams, and mate- 
rially increased their length. In allusion to this subject. 
Sir Walter Raleigh remarks in his Discourse on the Inven 
tion of Shipping, " In my own time the shape of our 
English ships hath been greatly bettered. It is not long 
since the striking of the top-mast hath been devised ; 
together with the chain-pump. We have lately added the 
bonnet and drabbler (sails.) To the courses wo have 
devised studding-sails, top-gallant-sails, gprit-sails, and 
tOD-sails. The weighing of anchors by the capstan is also 
now. We have fallen into consideration of the length of 
• See Saturday Ma^aiine, Vol. Ul., p. 92. 

cables, and by it we resist the malice of the greatest winds 
that can blow. We have also raised our second decks." 
The " navy estimates," at this period, were about £80,000. 

In the earlier part of the troublous reign of Charles the 
First, various important expeditions were fitted out against 
the French ami Spaniards. This unfortunate monarch, in 
despite of the difficulties which beset his career, almost 
from the commencement of his reign, greatly improved 
and extended the naval power of the country. Many ships 
of a large class were construc^ted, amongst which the 
" Sovereign of the Seas," a magnificent vessel, built by 
Peter Pett, under the direction of Phineas Pett, at Wool- 
wich, in 1035-7, is the most celebrated. 

This ship, of which we give an engraving, (p. 80,) was the 
largest hitherto built in England; her model was considered 
excellent; and she was in nearly all the celebrated actions 
with the Dutch in the seventeenth century. From a 
description written by Thomas Heywood, we learn that she 
was gorgeously decorated with carved-work : — " she was 
(he says) in length, by the keel, 128 feet; her main breadth, 
48 feet; in length, from the fore-end of the beak-head, to 
the after-end of the stern, 232 feet ; in height, from the 
bottom of her keel, to the top of her lanthorn, 76 feet; 
bore ten lanthorns, the biggest of which would hold ten per- 
sons upright ; had three llush-dccks, a forecastle, half-deck, 
and round-house. She hath eleven anchors, one of which 
is 4400 lbs. weight, and is of the burden of 1037 tons." 
She was pierced for 132 guns, amongst which were what 
were called fourteen " murdering-pieces." The Sovereign 
of the Seas was cut down afterwards, with great advantage 
to her sailing qualities; she was nearly rebuilt in 1684, 
when her name was changed to the lioyal Sovereign ; but 
was destroyed by fire at Chatham, in January, 1696, having 
been sixty years in service*. 

The direction of the navy was finally wrested from the 
king in 1642. Six years afterwards. Prince Rupert carried 
away twenty-five ships, none of which ever returned ; and 
such was the reduced state of the navy at the commence 
ment of Cromwell's usurped governmeint, that he had only 
fourteen two-decked vessels. Extraordinary exertions 
were, however, made ; in the following year, the Parliament 
recovered their supremacy at sea; Blake and other dis 
tinguished officers were appointed, and in 1654, the fleet 
was increased to 150 sail, manned by 20,000 seamen, whose 
pay was then raised from 1 9s. to 24s. per month. 

In 1049, the Constant Warwick, the first frigate, ac 
cording to Pepys, which had ever been built in England, 
was launched ; but Mr. James, in his Naval History, is of 
opinion that the Southampton, 32, built in 1 757, was the 
first vessel answering to the modern description of a frigate, 
as she carried her guns on a single whole-deck, a quarter 
deck, and a forecastle. 

In 1652, a war broke out with Holland, which lasted 
until April, 1654. During this contest, many severe and 
memorable actions took place between the English and 
Dutch Ueets, under the command of Admirals Blake and 
Van Tromp, which gave rise to some of the most inter- 
esting passages in our naval history. 

In 1655, the important Island of Jamaica was annexed 
to the British dominions. Two years afterwards, Blake 
executed the most brilliant naval exploit which has, 
perhaps, ever been recorded : the destruction of the Spanish 
West India Flota in the harbour of Santa Cruz, — " an 
action so miraculous, " says Clarendon, " that all men who 
knew the place, wondered how any sober men, with what 
courage soever endowed, would ever have undertaken it ; 
and tliey could hardly persuade themsehes to believe what 
they had done! Whilst the Spaniards comforted themselves 
with the belief that they were devils, and not men, who 
had destroyed them in that manner." At the death of 
Cromwell, in 1G58, the navy consisted of 157 vessels, 
maintained at an annual charge of £400,000. Naval esti- 
mates were first laid before Parliament at this period. 

The reign of Charles the Second was fruitful in naval 
glory. Mr. Pepys remarks, that that monarch " possessed 
a transcendent mastery in all maritime knowledge ;" he 
paid great attention to the welfare of the navy, and 
appointed his brother, the Duke of York, (James the 
Second,) Lord High Admiral, shortly after the Restoration 
in KiOO. There were two wars v\ith Holland during this 
reign ; the first continued from February, 16G5 until 16G8 : 

• The first division of the British Navy into rtttei, was made by 
command of (Jharles the First, in ]62fi. '1 h.»rst' ralos were, a> now 
BIX in number, eich consisting of two classes, to which diU'erea 
complements of men were assigueU. 





and the last, which broke out in 1671, was not concluded 
until 1574. The victory off Lowestoffe, on the 2nd of 
June, 1665, by the English fleet, under the command of the 
Lord High Admiral, was the most splendid which had 
hitherto taken place. The relative loss of the combatants 
appears almost incredible : — upwards of fifty Dutch ships, 
and 6000 men were destroyed, whilst the English only lost 
one vessel, the Charity, of 46 puns, and 590 men killed and 
wounded. The jealousy of the Dutch at the rapidly-increas- 
ing commerce and naval power of England, was not dimi- 
nished by the result of these contests, which, however, nearly 
exhausted the resources of both countries. 

James the Second, who had, whilst Lord High Admiral, 
gained considerable reputation as a naval commander, made 
extraordinary efforts, during his short and disturbed reign, 
for the restoration of the marine, which, during the latter 
years of Charles the Second, had fallen greatly to decay. 

At the period of the Revolution, in 1688, the French had 
attained a very high rank as a naval power. Louis the 
Fourteenth, then in the noon-tide of his prosperity, em- 
braced the cause of the dethroned monarch, and a war, 
which lasted eight years, broke out between the two 
countries in 1689. During this period, such was the 
vigorous administration of William the Third, that the 
navy was increased more than one-half, both in numbers 
and in tonnage ; and, at the conclusion of the war, in 1697, 
the French had received indisputable proofs of the supe- 
riority of the English at sea, amongst which the memo- 
rable action off Cape la Hogue, in 1692, may be adduced 
as an instance. In 1691 Plymouth Dock-yard was esta- 

In 169G that most princely of institutions, Greenwich 
Hospital, was founded. The pay of flag-officers, command- 
ers, lieutenants, masters, and surgeons, was nearly doubled, 
and the naval estimates were increased to 2,000,000?. during 
this reign. 

Shortly after the accession of Anne, a war broke out with 
France and Spain, in the course of which fifty-two French 
ships, carrying 3092 guns, were captured. 

But little attention appears to have been paid to the navy 
in the reign of George the First ; during the war with 
Spain, however, (1718-20,) a splendid victory was gained 
off Sicily, by Sir George Byng, afterwards Lord Torrington. 

George the Second entered into another war with Spain 
in 1 739, in consequence of which the sizes of the various 
classes of our ships of war were considerably increased. 
France joined in the contest against Britain in 1 744, but at 
its conclusion in 1748, the naval strength of the country, 
go far from being weakened, was greatly advanced ; the 
aaauiv's loss, however, was very great ; thirty-five French 

and Spanish ships of the line alone having been either 
captured or destroyed. 

In 1744, all prizes taken by His Majest)'s ships werei, by 
royal proclamation, declared to be henceforth the property 
of the captors, a measure equally to be commended on the 
score of its wisdom and its justice. The year 1747 is 
memorable for the victories gained respectively by Lord 
Anson and Admiral Hawke over the French. Our loss 
during this war only consisted of one seventy-gun ship, 
and a few vessels of a small class. 

Another war broke out with France in 1755. During 
the few intervening years of peace, considerable attention 
had been paia to the navy ; many new vessels were built, 
and improvements made in naval architecture; in January, 
1756, it consisted of 320 vessels of the various classes. 
Two brilliant victories were gained over the enemy in 1759, 
by Admiral Boscawen and Sir Edward Hawke ; many 
prizes were made, and such was the rapid increase of the 
navy, that, at the king's decease in 1760, it consisted of 
412 ships, 127 of which were of the line. 

We now enter upon the reign of George the Third, a 
period in every respect the most interesting and important 
in our naval annals. 

Section III. (1760—1833.) 

Few princes ever ascended a throne under happier auspices 
than George the Third. The naval superiority of the 
country had been placed, by a series of glorious successes, 
beyond all dispute ; and its commerce and internal prospe- 
rity were increasing in an extraordinary degree. 

In January, 1762, England declared war against Spain; 
it, however, lasted only for a short period, a general peace 
being concluded at Paris in February, 1763, between 
France, Spain, Great Britain, and Portugal. The enemy's 
loss during this war (1755-63), was very heavy ; 111 ves 
sels, (93 French and 18 Spanish,) including 42 line-of- 
battle ships, being taken and destroyed, whilst our own 
loss only consisted of nine vessels, the largest of which 
was of fifty guns, a fact almost incredible. Fifty sail of 
the line, and ninety-four smaller vessels, were built during 
this war, most of which were constructed in merchants' 
yards. In the following year (1764,) Pariiament granted 
1 0,000/. to Mr. Harrison for bis time-piece for discovering 
the longitude. 

The Aurora frigate, on board which the celebrated Fal- 
coner, author of the Shipwreck, served as purser, was lost 
in 1771 ; she is supposed to have foundered at sea, but her 
fate remains a mystery. 

The disastrous contest between Great Britain and het 


Colonies in North America broke out in 1775. The dis- 
affection of the Americans to the British Government had 
been progressively gaining strength since November, 1768; 
and, on the 19th of April, in the former year, hostilities at 
last commenced between the Royalists and Republicans 
at Lexington. In January, 1776, the navy consisted of 131 
shins of the line, and 209 vessels below fifty guns, a 
smaller force than the country had possessed for the pre- 
ceding twenty years. The war with America, however, 
infused fresh vigour into the Admiralty, wliich has never 
smce been relaxed. On the 4th of July, 1776, Congress 
disclaimed all allegiance to the British crown, and declared 
the Americans to be a free and independent nation. In 
February, 1778, France concluded a treaty of alliance 
against England with her revolted Colonies. In this year 
the British navy was increased to 450 vessels. A princely 
present was made, in the following year, by tlie East 
India Company to the nation, of three ships, of seventy-four 

War was declared against Spain in 1779, and against 
Holland in 1780. In the former year, a great sensation 
was produced throughout tlie country, by tlie appearance of 
the united fleets of France and Spain olf Plymouth, during 
a cruise in the cliannel. In January, 1780, Admiral 
Rodney took and destroyed twenty-nine sail of Spanish 
ships, seven of which were of the first class. In August, 
fifty-five sail of British merchantmen, including five 
Indiaraen, were captured by the united fleets of France 
and Spain. On the 23rd of September, a gallant action 
took place between his Majesty's ship Serapis, Captain 
Pearson, and Paul Jones, the celebrated privateer. 

The year 1781, is memorable for the operations of 
Admiral Rodney in the West Indies, and for the severe, 
but undecisive engagement, between the British and 
Dutch fleets, under Admirals Parker and Zoutman, off 
the Dogger Bank : one Dutch seventy-four was sunk, but 
no prizes were made. In January, 1782, such had been 
the exertions made by the Admiralty, that the British 
fleet consisted of 600 \essels, 161 of which, were line-of- 
battle ships. In Aprd, 1782, Lord Rodney gained a 
brilliant victory over a French fleet in the \Vest Indies ; 
five ships of the line were taken, and one sunk, amongst 
which was that of the Admiral de Grasse. 

In October, a severe but undecisive action took place, be- 
tween an English fleet of 34 sail of the line, under Lord 
Howe, and the combined fleets of France and Spain, of 
46 ships of the hne, off Gibraltai. On the .3rd of Sep- 
tember, 178'?, peace was concluded between Britain, 
France, and the United States. Our navy then consisted 

of 617 vessels, of 500,781 tons burden, being an increasa 
of 157,000 tons, since His Majesty's ^cession. Eighty- 
seven of the enemy's ships, from 110 to 20 guns, besides 
a large number of smaller vessels, and several American 
frigates, had been taken or destroyed during the war; our 
floss was much larger than we had sustained in any pre- 
vious war, thirty-one ships, from 74 to 20 guns, and about 
50 smaller vessels, being lost ; but such was the activity 
of the government, that no less than ICO ships were on the 
stocks at the conclusion of the war; eighty-three of 
which were building in merchants' yards. 

French Revolutionary War. 

At the commencement of the French Revolution, in 
1789, the navy had never been in a more efficient con- 
dition; and in February, 1791, ninety-eight ships of the 
line alone, were either commissioned or at sea. The 
threatening aspect assumed by France, the protection 
required for our extended commerce, of which, in fact, we 
might be almost said to enjoy a monopoly, and the safety 
of our immense colonies, rendered such precautions a 
matter not only of i)rudence, but of necessity. 

On the 1st of February, 1793, the French Convention at 
last declared war against Groat Britain and Holland. 
The principal naval events in that year, were the sur- 
render of Toulon, with its arsenal and shipping, to a 
British fleet under Lord Hood; the siege of Dunkirk; 
and several gallant single actions between Britiyli and 
French ships ; the most remai-kablo of which, was the 
capture of the Reunion, 38-gun frigate, by the Crescent, 
36, Captain Sir James Saumarez ; 138 men, out of 31 in 
the former, were killed and wounded, but not a single 
British seaman in the Crescent received the slightest 

The year 1 794, is memorable for the victory gained by 
Lord Howe, on the glorious first of June, when the naval 
power of the French republicans was first effectually 
humbled. Lord Howe was at sea with the Channel fleet, 
more than thi'ec weeks before he fell in with the enemy ; 
during this period, the most intense anxiety prevailed in 
England, as it was known, that twenty-seven French ships 
of the line had sailed from Brest, on the 10th of May, 
under the command of Admiral Villaret, an officer of 
great merit and experience. The enemy was first dis- 
covered on the 28th of May ; the British Admiral imme- 
diately gave chase, but owing to the stormy state of the 
weather a partial action only took place ; a fog separated 
the combatants during the two following days, but at 
length, on Sunday morning, the 1st of June, the sun rose 

^ I ji t K I j(. ^ ij* hi 

tWARD IV. — 148*2. 



biiglit and clear, and discovered the hostile fleets within 
sight of each other. In point of numbers they were 
nearly equal, twenty-six French ships of the line being 
opposed to twenty-five British, but the former were sjreatly 
superior in size and weight of metal. At fifty-two 
minutes past nine, the Royal Charlotte opened her fire ; 
the action soon becjirae general, and did not entirely cease 
until four o'clock. The damage sustained by the British 
fleet was inconsiderable, for at the conclusion of the 
engagement, fifteen sail of the line were almont uninjured ; 
seven French ships were taken, one of which sunk, with 
420 of her crew, before they could be removed. Lord 
Howe has been severely censured for allowing the French 
Admiral to escape with the remainder of his ships, five of 
which were dismasted ; and it has been proved beyond a 
doubt, that had he burnt his prizes and given chase, 
nearly the whole of the enemy's force would have been 
captured. Tliis circumstance was, however, overlooked, 
in the universal rejoicing which spread over the land, 
when the glorious tidings of the victory became known. 

Amongst the many gallant actions which took place in 
1 796, was the defeat of a squadron of sii French frigates 
by the Glatton, 64, under the command of Captain TroUnp, 
and the engagement between the Minerve, 3fi, Commodore 
Nelson, and two Spanish frigates, one of which was taken, 
and the other beaten off. In December, a lai'ge French 
fleet, with 20,000 soldiers on board, arrived in Bantry Bay, 
Ireland ; but, as in the case of the Spanish Armada, they 
were unable to land the troops, and dispersed with great 
loss by the violence of the weather. 

On the 14th of February, 1797, a great victory was 
gained by Sir John Jervis (afterwards Earl St. 'Vincent), 
over the Spanish fleet, off the cape of that name. The 
British force consisted of fifteen sail of the line, four 
frigates, and two smaller vessels; whilst the Spaniards had 
twenty-seven sail of the line, ten frigates, and a brig, all 
of superior size and weight of metal. This glorious victory 
may be attributed to the skill and presence of mind of the 
immortal Nelson, (in the Captain, 74,) who had, for several 
years previously, been reaping a rich harvest of fame in 
the Mediterrranean. He disobeyed a signal which was 
made by the Admiral, to tack in succession, which he 
perceived would be followed with disastrous consequences : 
this brought him at once singly into action with the 
Sanfissima Trinidad, 136, the San Joseph, and Salvador 
del Mvndo, each 1 1 2, and four other first-rate ships ; for 
nearly an hour did Nelson, supported alone by Sir T. 
Troubridge in the CuUoden, nobly maintain an action with 
this immense force; two of which, the San Joseph 112, 
and San Nicholas, 80, he ultimately boarded and captured. 
The enemy lost four ships, and nearly GOOO men killed, 
wounded, and prisoners, during the action; our own loss 
only consisted of 300 men. • 

C)n the 14th of April, the country was thrown into a 
sla'.e of consternation by an alarming mutiny in the 
Cl-.annel-fleet off Spithead. Since the reign of Charles the 
Second, notwithstanding the great increase which had 
taken place in the price of every necessary of life, no 
aldition had been made to the pay or allowances of the 
seamen in the Royal Navy ; their urgent remonstrances on 
tl-.e suhject had been disregarded, but it was now found to 
be a measure of absolute necessity, as it certainly was of 
common justice, to redress these grievances: several lives 
were, however, sacrificed during the mutiny. A still more 
dangerous mutiny broke out on the 27th of May, in the 
North Sea fleet, fifteen sail of which was then under the 
command of Admiral Duncan in Yarmouth Roads, bound 
to the Texel. The demands of the mutineers were ex- 
ceedingly preposterous ; and they insisted, amongst other 
things, that seamen should, in future, sit on courts martial, 
where one of their own class was tried. Most of the ships 
then deserted the admiral, several joining the fleet then at 
the Nore, which was also in the highest state of insubor- 
dination. Here they placed themselves under the command 
of a man named Richard Parker, who sent delegates with 
fresh propositions to the Board of Admiralty, then at 
Sheerness, which were at once rejected. The mutineers 
then carried off some gun-boats out of Sheemess-harbour, 
after firing at the garrison. On the 29th of May, they 
blockaded the mouth of the Thames, not permitting a 
single vessel to pass, except a few fishing-boats and neutrals, 
who received an order signed by Parker. The conster- 
nation in London, and indeed throughout the empire, now 
became very great, and the 3 per cent consols fell to 74^. 
Parker threatened to put to sea, and deliver up, or sell 

the fleet to the enemy. This, however, caused great 
disgust amongst the less violent of the mutineers, and 
symptoms of insubordination began to appear. The 
greatest exertions were now made by government ; the 
buoys along the coast were taken up, and the forts at 
Tilbury, Gravesend, Sheerness, &c., were strongly fortified, 
and provided with heated shot. On the 9th of June, the 
fleet refused to obey Parker's signal to put to sea ; and on 
the 13th he was deserted by all the ships, when he sur- 
rendered in the Sandwich, was put into irons, and executed 
on board that vessel, on the 29th of the month. Several 
others were soon afterwards executed. This mutiny 
extended to the fleet off Cadiz, under Earl St. Vincent, but 
it was suppressed by his firmness and decision. 

In July, an unsuccessful expedition was undertaken 
against Teneriffe ; Nelson, who commanded, lost his right 
arm, and 250 men were killed a)id wounded. On the 10th 
of October, Admiral Duncan gained a splendid and decisive 
victory over the Dutch fleet, off the coast of Holland, taking 
nine sail of the line. 

The ycsr 1798, in many respects one of the most im- 
portant in our naval history, was distinguished by the 
Battle of the Nile, " a victory," says Dr. Southey, 
" the most complete and glorious in our annals ; ' Victory' 
said Nelson, ' was not a name strong enough for such a 
scene;" he called it a conquest." Of the enemy's fleet of 
thirteen sail of the line, and four frigates, nine of the 
former were taken, and two burnt ; Bruyx, the French 
Admiral, an officer of great ability, was killed, and his ship 
the I'Orient, of 130 guns, blown up*; two frigates were 
also destroyed, and of the whole French force, only four 
ships succeeded in making their escape. " The British loss 
in killed and wounded, was 873. 'Westcott was the onlv 
captain who fell; 3105 of the French, including the 
wounded, were sent on shore by cartel, and 5225 perished." 
Nelson was now at the summit of his glory. 

In 1799, amongst other splendid naval actions, was the 
surrender of the Dutch fleet in the Texel, to the English 
squadron under Admiral Mitchell. In March 1800, the 
Queen Charlotte, 110, blew up at Leghorn, and Captain 
Todd, with 800 of his crew, lamentably perished. At the 
latter end of this year, a confederation was entered into in 
the North, against England, between Russia, Prussia, 
Sweden, and Denmark. In consequence of this con- 
federacy, it was determined by the British Government, in 
the following spring, to send an expedition against 
Denmark, which then possessed a navy of twenty-three 
ships of the hne, and about thirtv-one frigates and smaller 

On the 2nd of April, the British fleet, under the 
command of Sir Hyde Parker, with whom was Lord 
Nelson, entered the Sound. On the 4th, Lord Nelson, wlw 
commanded in the action, destroyed nearly the whole of 
the Danish fleet, after an obstinate engagement, bombarded 
Copenhagen, and obliged that government to enter into an 
armistice, which put an end to the armed neutrality of the 
North. On the 1 2th of July, Sir James Saumarez, with 
only five ships under his command, defeated a French 
squadron of ten ships of the line, two of which blew up, 
after engaging the Superb, 74, commanded by Captain 
(now Sir Richard) Keats. 

On the 1st of October, the navy consisted of 864 vessels, 
(including 180 line-of-battle ships,) 763 of which were 
actually in commission. On the 27th of March, 1802, a 
treaty of peace was signed at Amiens. During the war, 
570 ships had been taken from the enemy; 86 of which 
were line-of-battle ships, and 209 frigates : our own loss, 
during this period, only consisted of 59 ships, forty-one 
of which were small-class vessels! Upwards of 50,01/0 
seamen were employed during the peace, which only 
lasted until May, 1803, when war was again declared 
against France and Holland. In December, 1804, at a 
period when the naval star of Britain shone out brightly, 
Spain joined in the contest against this country. 

The victory off Trafalgar, and the De.ath of ^ELStON, 
render 1805 the most interesting year in our naval history. 
In April, the French and Spanish fleets formed a junction 
at Cadiz ; Nelson, who was tlien in the Mediterranean, 
immediately engaged in a pursuit across the Atlantic, 
which, for its " extent, rapidity, and perseverance," has 
been pronounced uneiiualled; but the enemy eluded his 
grasp, and he was obliged reluctantly to return to England, 

• This ship had specie on board (the plunc er of Malta,) to t'at 
amount of £600,000. sterling. 



on tl ' 15th of August. Sir Robert Calder, who had, in 
the mean time, been also sent out to intercept the enemy's 
lleet on their return, was more fortunate: lie fell in with 
liiem off Cape Fiuisterre, captured two sail of tiie line, but 
attempted nothing further. In September, Nelson, on 
whom the hopes of the nation were once more centred, 
sailed in the Victory, (now the tiag-ship at Portsmouth,) 
for Cadiz, where he assumed the command of the fleet; 
but did not fall in with the enemy till the 21st of October. 
" At daybreak, the combined lleets were distinctly seen 
from the Victory's deck, formed in a close line of battle 
a-head, on the starboard tack, about twelve miles to 
leeward. Our fleet consisted of twenty-seven sail of the 
line, and four frigates : theirs of thirty-three, and seven 
large frigates. Their superiority was greater in size and 
weight of metal than in numbers. They had four thou- 
sand troops on board, and the best riflemen that could be 
procured, were dispersed thiough the ships." 

Our limits will not permit us even to glance at the 
details of a victory, which must be familiar to most of our 
countrymen. Suttice it to say that Nelson's last signal, 
" England expects every man to do Hts duty," 
was faithfully oheyed that day. The defeat of the enemy 
was complete and decisive: twenty ships of the line struck; 
and four French line-of-battle ships, which had behaved in 
a most dastardly manner at the close of the action, were 
taken a few days afterwards by Sir Richard Strachan. 
But one event darkened the national rejoicing, our country 
had lost its greatest naval hero. " The death of Nelson, " 
says Dr. Southey, " was felt in England as something 
more than a public calamity : men started at the intelligence 
and turned pale ; as if they had heard of the loss of a 
dear frientV So perfectly, indeed, had he performed his 
part, that the maritime war, after tlie Battle of Trafalgar, 
was considered at an end: the fleets of the enemy were 
not merely defeated, hut destroyed ; new navies must be 
built, and a new race of seamen reared for them, before 
the possibility of their invading our shores could again be 

Our notices of the numberless naval exploits which 
distinguished the remaining ten years of the war, must 
necessarily be brief. A continued career of success 
contributed to raise the British navy to a magnitude, to 
which the accumulated navies of the whole world, at any 
period, bore but a small proportion. In September, 1807, 
the City of Copenhagen and the Danish fleet once more 
surrendered to British valour ; Lord Cathcart and Admiral 
Gambier captured eighteen sail of the line and fifteen 
frigates during the expedition. On the 1st of December, 
Russia declared war against England, at which period, the 
number of seamen in the British navy, was 130,000! 
The naval force at the close of the following year, amounted 
to G27 ships in commission, and 06 building, of an ag- 
gregate burden of nearly 900,000 tons: the larger classes 
of sliips were now greatly increased in burden. In 1810, 
the country had to deplore the loss of Admiral Lord 
CoLLi.NGwoOD, who died at sea, off Minorca, on the Oih of 
March. The period between the years 1806-12, abounds 
with instances of naval heroism and gallantry. Including 
ships in ordinary and tenders, there were then seldom less 
than 1000 pendants floating in the breeze 

On the 18th of June, 1812, war was declared between 
England and the United States of America. This event 
gave rise to some of the most interesting passages which 
have ever distinguished maritime warfare. Frequently 
largely manned by British seamen, and greatly superior 
in size and weight of metal, the American navy, for nearly 
a year after the commencement of the war, had an almost 
uninterrupted career of success over the British. The 
Guerriere 36, the Frolic brig, the Macedonian 38, the 
Java 38, and the Peacock 1 8, were successively captured 
by American ships. The British name was, however, at 
last gloriously retrieved, by the action between the Shan- 
MO.v and the Chesapeake, an event which we shall 
detail at length, nearly in the words of one of the most 
eminent of our naval historians. Captain E. P. Brenton ; 
especially as it conveys a vivid idea of an engagement at 
sea. 'We must premise, that the Shannon and her op- 
ponent were equal in the number of their guns, thirty-eight 
I8-pounders, but the American was greatly superior in the 
number of her crew, having 110 men more than the 

Captain P. B. V. Broke, had, for many days previously 
to the action, been watching the Chesapeake as she lay in 
the bar' (.or at Boston, and on the 1st of June, (1813,) sent in 

a challenge to Captain Lawrence, her commander, to como 
out and fight; promising that no other ship should in- 
terfere, whatever might be the event of the battle, and 
reiiuiriiig the same pledge from Captain Lawrence. 
Whether it was in compliance with this challenge, or ir, 
obedience to his orders, that the American captain put to 
sea, is uncertain. The day was fine, with a light breeze, 
when the Shannon, with a blue ensign at her peak, stood 
in towards Boston. About eleven o'clock, the Chesapeake 
came out of Boston Roads, accompanied by fifty or sixty 
pleasure-boats and a privateer schooner, to witness the defc it 
of the English. Much manoeuvring then took place- at 
last, about forty-five minutes past five, the enemy hau'ed 
up to within 200 yards of the Shannon's weather bestm, 
and gave three cheers. On this. Captain Broke addressed 
his ship's company, told them that that day would decide 
the superiority of British seamen, when well trained, over 
those of other nations, and that the Shannon would show 
m that day's action, how short a time the Americans had to 
boast when ojiposed to equal force. The two ships being 
now not more than a stone's throw asunder, the action 
commenced by the Shannon giving her broadside, be- 
ginning with the aftermost guns on the starboard side. 
The enemy passing too fast ahead tb receive more than a 
second discharge from the aftermost guns, the boarders 
were ordered to prepare, when the Chesapeake attempting 
to haul her foresail up, fell aboard the Shannon, and got 
entangled with her. Here a sharp fire of musketry took 
place between the marines of both ships; when this had 
lasted a few minutes, the enemy appeared to flinch, and 
Captain Broke, at the head of his boarders, mounted the 
forecastle carronade, and leapt on the quarter-deck of the 
Chesapeake, followed by Lieutenant Watt and the marines. 
This di\ision was supiiorted by the main-deck boarders. 
Cajitain Broke, followed by aliout sixty of his people, put to 
death all that opposed his passage around the gangway 
and dl-ove the Americans below, while the bow-guns of 
the Shannon made dreadful havoc on the main-deck of the 
enemy. Mr. Comahan, a midshipman of the Shannon, 
placed himself on her main-yard, whence, witli musketry, 
he killed, or wounded, nearly all the men stationed in the 
main and forotops of the enemy. Captain Broke, in the 
mean time, with the boarders, had cleared the enemy s 
quarter-deck, though a little impeded by their fire. Our 
men gave three clieers, rushed forward, and carrying all 
before them, united on the forecastle, and drove the crew 
of the Chesapeake below. It was in making a charge 
along the larboard-gangway, that Captain Broke nobly 
saved the life of an American seaman who called for 
quarter ; but the villain, suddenly snatching up a cutlass, 
gave his deliverer a blow on the back of his head, which 
had nearly proved fatal at the time, and from the effects of 
which he has never recovered. The Shannon's people 
instantly cut the miserable man to pieces. The Americans 
were rallying on the main-deck, when the English made 
another desperate rush amongst them ; and, in fifteen 
minutes from the commencement of the action, the British 
flag had supplanted that of America, and the Chesapeake 
was a prize to the Shannon. While the contest was pro- 
ceeding the two ships had separated, and a small British 
blue ensign had been hoisted at the gaffend of the Chesa- 
peake. Lieutenant Watt, first of the Shannon, unfortu- 
nately wished to exchange this flag for a largo white ensign 
which he had brought with him for that purpose. The 
people on board the Shannon perceiving that the firing 
still continued, and that the blue ensign was hauled down, 
concluded that the enenly had overpowerexi the small party 
of Englishmen then on board. Under this natural, but 
fatal error, they directed their fire at the Chesapeake's 
quarter-deck, killed Lieut. Watt, three of the Shannon's 
men, and wounded some others ; nor was it till the small 
blue ensign was re-hoisted that the firing ceased. The 
crew of the Chesapeake having been driven into the hold 
of their own ship, a marine sentinel was placed over the 
main-hatchway, when the Americans treacherously fired 
up from the hold and killed him. On this our men poured 
down a heavy fire on them, until they again called for 
quarter, and promised to deliver up the offender. The 
prisoners of war were then secured and handcuffed on 
the orlop-deck. Many of them were drunk and riotous, but 
the others tranquil and well-behaved. 

At seven in the evening, the pleasure-boats and the 
privateer which had accompanied the Chesapeake to the 
scene of action, returned to the afflicted town of Boston, 
where suppers and balls had been foolishly prepared for 



the anticipated victors and their British captives. The 
action was one of the most bloody and determined ever 
Ibught between two ships of their class in so snort a time. 
The loss on ooarn the Shannon, out of 330 men, was three 
officers and twenty-three men killed ; Captain Broke, two 
officers, and fifty-eight men wounded ; eighty-seven total. 
On mustering the crew of the Chesapeake the following 
day, they found she began the action with 440 men, 
of whom the second lieutenant, master, marine otficers, 
some midshipmen, and ninety seamen and marines were 
killed ; Captain Lawrence mortally wounded, and the first 
and second lieutenants, some midshipmen, and 110 men 
also wounded ; making a total of killed and wounded 
between the two ships of nearly 300 men, or twenty men 
for every minute the ships were in action. 

Tliree American armed vessels were taken by the British 
during the remainder of this year. In 1814, peace was 
concluded between the Allied Powers and the French 
Government. In this and the following year, the American 
frigates, Essex and President*, were captured by the 
British frigates, Phcebe and Endymion, and the ports of 
the United States were put under blockade by Sir A. 
Cochrane. In September, 1814, the Avon, British eigh- 
teen-gun brig was sunk in a desperate action with the 
American ship-sloop. Wasp (of superior force), off Kinsale 
in Ireland ; and shortly after, a small British squadron in 
Lake Champlain, was captured by an American squadron, 
after a severe conflict. In 1815, the Battle of Waterloo led 
to a general peace. 

The bombardment of Algiers, and destruction of the 
Algerine squadron, on the 7th of August, 1816, by the 
British fleet under Lord Exmouth, and the splendid vic- 
tory over the Turkish fleet, in the Bay of Navanno, by 
Sir Edward Codrington, have been the principal naval 
events since the peace. During the last twenty years, 
great imptovenients have been made in naval architecture, 
especially by Sir Robert Seppings and Captain Symonds; 
the plans introduced by the latter, since he has held the 
office of Sm-veyor of the Navy, have, however, occasioned 
considerable controversy amongst nautical men : by con- 
siderably increasing the breadth of beam, he has greatly 
added to the tonnage of our men-of-war, a striking instance 
of which is afibrded by the Vernon, a frigate launclied at 
Woolwich, in 1832. This splendid vessel, indisputably 

• The President, however, only struck on the advance of the 
Porrwne, another Britbh ship. 

the finest frigate in the world, although only pierced fbr 
50 guns, admeasures upwards of 2082 tons burden. 

In the event of another war, there is every probability 
that the incalculably-important invention of steam-naviga- 
tion will entirely alter the system of naval warfare. 

We cannot better conclude this brief notice of the rise 
and progress of a service, which, under the protection of an 
all-gracious Providence, has ever been the surest safeguard 
of our country in the hour of danger, than by an extract from 
the speech of Sir James Graham, First Lord of the Admi- 
ralty, in proposing the Navy Estimates, 1833. After com- 
paring the present state of the navy with that of two antece- 
dent periods, 1778 and 1793, the right hon. baronet said, — 
" Though the number of vessels which we possessed at 
the present moment was less than at those periods, the 
proportion of vessels, of a large rate, had been greatly in- 
creased, and the number of men necessary to be employed 
was also much greater. The naval superiority of this country 
would be best exemplified by referring to the present force 
of the three other principal naval powers, — France, Russia, 
and America. France, at the present time, had thirty-one 
sail of the line and thirty-seven frigates ; Russia, thirty-six 
sail of the line and twenty-three frigates ; and America, eight 
sail of the line and ten frigates. It would, therefore, be 
perceived, that this country had nothing to apprehend from 
an inferiority m ner maritime force, which then consisted 
of 348 ships. It was, indeed, upon the maintenance of 
her naval power, that England depended for her national 
character, and her national existence. Let but her naval 
superiority be once lost, and owing to her insular position, 
and to various other circumstances, she could no longer 
maintain her present high rank in the social system, she 
must necessarily fall into the place of a second-rate power. 
On the other hand, if we maintain our navy as it ought to 
be maintained, we have nothing to fear, — England must 
always be what she is at present, first among the nations 
of the world. 

Tlie estimates for the British navy, for 1833, amounted 
to 4,658,134/.: and on the 1st of January, 1834, it consisted, 
according to the official return, of 557 vessels of the various 
classes, including twelve ships of 120 guns, fourteen from 
104 to 112 guns, and twenty-two steam vessels, most of 
which are armed. 

In a future Paper, we purpose giving some account ot 
the rise and present state of the Commercial Shipping of 
Great Britain, including a History of the Port of London. 


LONDON s Published Dy JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, West Strand , and sold by all BookseUen. 




m 107. 


MARCH \^:iiM4^ 1^^ 18.34. 

( Price 
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under the dirfxtion ok thk commntke ok gfnkrai. l.itkrature and education, 
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I. Origin and Dkscrfption ok the 
The year 1814 will ever be marked as one of the 
most memorable in hi>^t()ry, for it is that, in which was 
happily terminated the fierce and sanguinary war, 
that, without intermission, had desolated Euro])e, 
since the rupture of the transient peace of Amiens, 
in 1803; — it is that in which Napoleon was driven 
from the throne he had usurped, and in which 
France, no longer oi>|jressed by his grievous tyranny, 
joyfully received back her legitimate sovereign, Louis 
the Eighteenth. 

But these happy events were preceded by others 

of a verj' different character; for, during eleven 

long and eventful years before they came to, — 

that i«, from 1803 to 1814,— a state of inveterate 

Vol IV. 

enmity had subsisted constantly between Buonaparte 
and Great Britain, and at intervals between him 
and the other great European powers. If to this 
period of warfare, we add that which elapsed from 
the commencement of the hostilities that grew out 
of the French Revolution in 1793, to their ending 
in 1802, we shall have a melancholy, and almost 
uninternijited succession of the miseries of strife 
and bloo(bhcd for nearly a quarter of a century. 

It would be idle to dwell at large upon the ills 
which aillictcd mankind during this period; they are 
such as good men have always lamented, and none 
but the wicked have rejoiced in exciting. When, 
therefore, in 1814, a general Peace came to bless 
the natidn? of Ev.rope, it was received with heartfelt 
eagerne.=s, and the n.ore so, because, beiug based 




[March 1, 

upon the downfall of Napoleon, — of him who had 
bet'n the grand promoting cause of all the wars 
which it was intended to terminate, — it promised to be 
a lasting and a permanent peace. With this feeling, 
it was universally hailed as one of the most joyous 
events that had occurred for many years, and as the 
pledge of future happiness and prosperity; and, as was 
natural, the British nation was filled with gratitude 
towards those, who, under Divine Providence, had 
been the chief instruments in bringing it about. 

Conspicuous amongst those who were thus re- 
garded, stood the Duke of Wellington, — Eng- 
land's great General, who had baffled all the most 
consummate captains of Napoleon, — who had chased 
the enemy's armies from the territories of Spain and 
Portugal, — and, after liberating those nations from 
the hands of the spoiler, had finally planted the tri- 
umphant standard of our country on the soil of 
France itself. These services were willingly recog- 
nised and appreciated by his grateful countrymen; 
honours were heaped on him from all sides, and 
men taxed their ingenuity to devise modes in 
which they might best mark their gratitude to him. 
To this feeling, so universally displayed, is to be attri- 
buted the production of the Wellington Shield, 
one of the most magnificent works of art ever exe- 
cuted in the precious metals. 

• The merchants and bankers of London, desirous 
of especially recording their sense of his brilliant 
services, held a public meeting, at which it was 
determined to raise by subscription a sum of money, 
to be expended in the production of some grand 
memorial, at once worthy the acceptance of him 
whom it was intended to honour, and best calculated 
to testify the respect and admiration of who 
were about to bestow it. A committee was appointed, 
to consider how these intentions might be most 
effectually carried into opei-ation, and to select the 
most fitting and appropriate from such designs as 
should be proposed. This committee consisted of 
the following gentlemen : 

.T. VV. Dennison, Ksq., JI. P. 
John Dent, Ksq., M. V. 
John Inglis, E^q. 
William Mellibh. Esq., M. P. 

Jolm Julius Angerstein, Esq. 
Beeston Long, Ksq. 
William iManning, Esq., M. P. 
Jeremiah Ilarman, Esq 

William Ilolden, Esq., Secretary. 

Tlie plans presented for the approbation of the 
committee, were, as might have been expected, nume- 
rous, and such as required attentive consideration. 
At length, it was determined, that some grand work 
of art, executed in the precious metals, would form 
the most suitable gift that cotdd be made. 

Among the houses most distinguished for working 
in gold and silver, were those of Messrs. Rundell and 
Bridge, and Messrs. Green, Ward, and Green; and it 
happened, curiously enough, that the former were, at 
this time, occupied in making a model of the cele- 
brated Shield of Achilles, from the design of the late 
John Flaxman, Esq., R. A., for his late Majesty 
George the Fourth. This circumstance suggested the 
idea of that very work being admiraljly adapted to the 
purpose which the committee had to carry into effect. 
It was accordingly proposed, and the powerful recom- 
mendation of its intrinsic merits was strengthened 
by the consideration, that it would be more easy of 
execution than any other, inasmuch, as those who 
might perform it, were already engaged in a similar 
undertaking. These were weighty reasons, but, in 
the mean while, another plan had been matured, 
and its claims were now preferred with a still more 
powerful effect. 

Anxious to obtain some original design, of decided 
merit, Messrs. Green and Ward were induced to 
apply to the eminent sculptor Francis Chantrey, 

Esq., R. A., for his advice and assistance. The 
numerous occupations of this distinguished artist, 
did not permit him to undertake the task ; but, 
added he, " if there is a man in England who can 
assist you, that man is Stothard ;" and, when in- 
formed that a copy of the Shield of Achilles had 
been suggested, he observed, " Surely, if it is to 1x- 
a shield, let it be the Shield of Wellington, not 
of Achilles." The hint was adopted, and the advice 
followed. Mr. Stothard was fortunately consulted, 
and he readily agreed to form a design for a " Shield 
of Wellington." The design was submitted to the 
Committee, and having been by them approved, was 
forthwith carried into execution*. 

Owing, however, to the length of time which 
elapsed before the plan was matured, and to the 
delays caused by the difficulties of execution, it was 
not until the year 1822 that the whole work was 
completed. In the mean while, however, the subject 
had undergone the fullest consideration, the greatest 
care had been bestowed on the workmanship, and 
the result was the production of one of the finest 
specimens of art ever executed in the precious metals. 


The form of the shield is cii-oular; the diameter being 
about three feet eight inches. It is composed, (speaking 
generally,) of two portions, a central compartment, aiid a 
broad border. The former is of burnished ffold (or ratlier, 
silver richly gilt) ; it is convex, and radiating from tlje 
centre, in which is a concavity, containing a beautiful group 
of figures, in alto relievo, executed in deadened gold, and 
thus appearing extremely effective, from the radiant 
ground on whicli it rests. In the centre of this group, is 
seen the Duke of Wellington on horseback, the head of 
his cliarger forming the boss of tlie shield; and around 
him, on all sides, are represented the most illustrious of 
those officers who ser\'ed mulci- him, and among whom 
are Lord Beresford, Lord Hill, the Earl of Hopetoun, 
Lord Lyndoch, the gallant Sir Thomas Picton, who was 
slain at Waterloo, Sir Lowry Cole, and others. Above, is 
an allegorical representation of Fame, crowning the illus- 
trious commander with the wreath of laurel ; and beneath, 
at his feet, lies a figure, whose fallen emblems mark 
the downfall of the usurper's despotism. Two other pro- 
strate figures are also seen, the one with a dagger, the 
other with a torch, and representing the violence and the 
devastation, to which an end was so happily caused. The 
arrangement of this central group, is extremely effective; 
the principal figure has a due prominence, and the sur- 
rounding officers are well placed, without producing any 
ofiectof crowd or confusion. 

The border is of deadened gold, and is divided into 
ten compartments, in each of which is represented, in 
basso relievo, one of the principal events in the Duke's 
military life, up to the general peace of 1814. Little was 
it then thought that the following year was to witness a 
battle, the greatest, both in itself and its results, that 
history ever recorded. The Battle of Waterloo, which took 
place in .June, 1815, is thus excluded from this bright 
series; those comprised are as follows: — 

Victory of Assaye, (September the 23rd, 1803.) 
Battle 'of 'V'imiera, (August the 21st, 1808,) 
Passage of the Douro, (May the 12th, 1809. 
Lines of Torres "Vedras, (March the 6th, 1*11.) 
Badajoz taken by Assatdt, (April the 6th, 1812.) 
Battle of Salamanca, (.July the 22nd, 1812.) 
Battle of Vittoria, (June the 2Ist, 1813.) 
Battle of the Pyrenees, Bourdeaux delivered, (181. S j 
Entrance into Toulouse, (April the 12th, 1813.) 
Dukedom of Wellington conferred, (1814.) 

These great and glorious events are represented 
with equal beauty, spirit, and effect, in a series ot 
historical compositions, surrounding the central 
compartment, and separated from each other by an 
appropriate column. The great size of the comidcte 

• The designs for two beautiful Columns to support the Shield 
were aftei wards furnished by H. Smirkc, Esq. 




shield renders it impossible to present, within our 
limits, a general and accurate view of the whole; 
our present engraving, therefore, represents only 
the centre group, and the radiated ground upon 
which it is placed. In future pages, we shall present 
separate engravings from the surrounding compart- 
ments, ten in number, and as every one of these 
is commemorative of a great event, each engraving 
will be accompanied by an historical narrative, in 
which occasion will be taken to explain the nature, 
importance, and results of the events themselves, and 
presenting collecti\ely a brief history of the war in 
the Peninsula, from 1808 to 1814. 

The two columns, designed by Mr. Smirke, and which 
Rtand one on each sirle of the shield, are intended to 
convey a representation of the fruits of the victories 
depicted on it. They are each about four feet three or 
four inches high, including the figures of Fame and 
Victory, by which they are respectively surmounted. 
The body of each column is formed by the trunk of a 
palm-tree, with a capital of leaves; it stands on a triangular 
base, and is surroundcl in each instance, by three cha- 
racteristic figures. Military trophies and weapons are 
heaped up at the angles of the b ise, as if indicating that 
there is no longer any need of them. 

Around the base of the column which supirarts the 
figure of Victory, are resting three soldiers of the United 
Kingdom, a British Grenadier, a Highlander, and an Irish 
Light-infantryman, each holding the flag of his country, 
distinguished by the Rose, the Thistle and the Shamrock. 
The subjects in basso relievo on the base, are, Britaimia 
awarding the laurel-wreath alike, to the army and the 
navy; a return to the full occupation of the useful and 
ingenious arts ; and a festive dance, in which both old and 
young are gaily joining. 

Around the column, which is surmounted by Fame, 
are placed in quiescent attitudes, three soldiers, emblematic 
of three of the nations whose troops the Duke had com- 
manded in the field, namely, a Portuguese, an Indian 
Sepoy, and a Spanish Guerilla, who are supposed to 
have bound a medallion of the Duke among the folds 
of their respective Hags. Under each figure is a bas- 
relief, describing the peaceful occupations of the several 
countries. Under the Guerilla, are Spanish peasants 
dancing, while the vine and the oxen denote the return 
of agriculture and the vintage. Under the Portuguese, 
the long-neglected vineyaid appears restored to its pro- 
ductive harvest; and beneath the Sepoy, a Hindostanee 
family reposes in peace, under the protection of the 
British government, while a warrior is relating an ac- 
count of the Battl? of Assaye, by which the country was 
freed from the ravages of the Mahrattas. The guardians 
of this scene, are, a .soldier of the 1 0th regiment of Dra- 
goons, (which much distinguished itself in that battle,) a 
Sepoy, and a Mahratta captive. 

We have now given a brief outline of this cele- 
brated work, and referred to the warm commendations 
tliat from every side have been heajjed upon its 
author (the veteran Stothard), and more especially, 
to the general applause of all competent judges. The 
difficulties which the artist had to encounter, were, 
indeed, of no ordinary kind; for he had to consider, 
in the formation of his designs, not only what might 
!)e beautiful and proper in itself, but what might, 
also, be practicable, and capable of being executed, 
in a material so difficult to be worked as that of 
which this splendid trophy is composed. How com- 
pletely he has triumphed over them, at least, in so 
far as the central compartment of the shield is 
concerned, and how effectually he has avoided those 
faults of obscurity too commonly met with in allego- 
rical representations, our readers will at once per- 
ceive, by inspecting the engraving which precedes this 
article. That the merits of the historical illustrations 
which occupy its border are not less conspicuous, 
will be equally evident from the engravings by 
which the future historical narratives will be 


Both good and bad, alike may chooE%, 

To scorn my hu.Tibie speech; 
But Folly will aloiie refuse, 

To do what Proverbs teach. — From the Greek. 

Proverbs, say the Italians, bear age; and he who 
would do well_ may view himself in them, as in a looking- 
glass. And again, A Proverb is the child of Expe- 
rience. We need, therefore, make no apology for 
again devoting a portion of our columns to the sub- 
ject, so soon after its first introduction. But the 
candid reader will make due allowances, if the selec- 
tion of proverbs should seem imperfect; if some are 
left out that deserve to be put in, and on the other 
hand, if others, which strike him as less useful, are 
inserted. The fact is, the plainest and most homely 
are often the best; and such as these may, on some 
critical occasions, suddenly present themselves to the 
mind even of the wise and good, so as to help them 
to act more carefully, or, as circumstances may be, 
more firmly and wisely, than they would have done, 
without such a timely adviser. 

It is, however, for the benefit of the young and 
inexperienced, that these papers are chiefly intended. 
And would they but carefully read each in succession, 
and then give a few of those minutes which are 
generally lost every day in doing nothing, towards 
pondering and reflecting well upon them, the ad- 
vantage derived would more than repay them for 
the trouble; for they might thus learn (and who 
among us does not require this knowledge?) to be- 
come wiser and better. But in a])plying to these 
" dead counseUors" for the incentives to wisdom and 
virtue, it will be well to bear in mind, that Every 
good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and 
Cometh down from the Father of Lights. 

12. Let nothing affright you but sin. 

This beautiful proverb is finely illustrated in the 
writings of Juxenal, who flourished at Rome, a.d. 90. 
Gilford, his translator, observes of him, in reference to his 
1 3th Satire;— 

" .Juvenal is here almost a Christian. I say almost; for 
though bis ignorance of ' that light which was come into the 
world ' did not enable him to number among the dreadful 
consequences of impenitent guilt, the certain punishment 
o{ the life to come; yet on every other topic that can alarm 
the sinner, he is energetic and awful beyond example. 
Perhaps the horrors of a troubled conscience were never 
depicted with such impressive solemnity as in this satire." 
Guilt still alarms, and conscience, ne'er asleep. 
Wounds with incessant strokes, " not loud but deep," 
While the vex'il mind, her mm tormentor, plies 
A scorpion scourge, unmark'd by human eyes ! 
Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign, 
C;an match the fierce, th' unutterable pam. 
He feels, who niglit and day, devoid of rest. 
Carries his own Accuser in his breast. — Juvenal, Sat, 13. 

13. A civil Answer to a rude speech costs not much, 
and is worth a great deal. 

All are struck with the truth and beauty of the 
sentiment, so briefly, yet fully expressed, in Prov. xv. 1. 
A soft Answer tumeth away wrath. And bow much hap- 
pier should we be, if we put it oftener in practice! Tlie 
above (13), is a proverb of the Italians, who, also, have 
this saying, " One mild word quenches more heat than a 
whole bucket of water." 

14. Make a slow Answer to a hasty question. 

" Let every man," says St. James, " be swift to 
hear, slow to speak." 

1.5. Few men take his Advice who talks a great deal, 

And no wonder: for, "he who knows but little, pre- 
sently outs with it." And, though silence is not neces- 
sarily, nor in itself a proof of good judgment, exec* 
sive talkativeness shows a want of it. The following is 
an old Grecian adage, translated. "Tongue! whither thou? To build a city, and then to destroy it!' 
signifying, says Erasmus, that the tongue aflbrds great 
blessings to mankind, and that the same member become* 




(Maucij 1, 

a cause of dreadful mischief. Our Kniilish ]ioct, George 
Wither, who wrote in 1G34, observes in his Emblems, 

NO heart can t'.iiiik to what strange end.=, 
Tlie 'I'onguk's unruly motion tends. 

16. Invain does he ask Ad\ick u-ho will not follow it. 
" Few thinf;s," says Dr. Jolinsou, " are so hberally 

bestowed, or squandered witli so little effect, as good advice." 

1 7. He who will revenge every Affront means not 
to live long. 

18. Forgiveness is the best revenge of an Affront. 
How different from the maxim of " An eye for an 

eye, and a tooth for a tooth," is 1 Cor. xiii. 

19. The best Armoi;ii is to keep out of gun-shot. 
This toadies us to avoid, as far as possible, all 

occasions that lead to sin or to mischief of whatever kind, 
rather ti)an be drawn into the current, fancying tliat we 
shall escape. 

Foi- an illustration of this, turn to the ancient fable 
of the Sirens, or, as Lord Bacon, in his Wisdom of the 
Ancients, interprets them, the Pleasures. "The habita- 
tion of the Sirens," says that wise author, " was i:i certain 
plea-ant islands, from whence, as soon as out uf their 
rtatcb-tower they discovered any ships approaching, wilii 
fiieir sweet tunes they would first entice and stay the 
people, and having them in their power would destroy 
thcui. So great was the mischief tliey did, that these 
isles of the Sirens, even as far off as man can ken tbem, 
appeared white with the bones of unburied carcasses. 
Kor the remedying of this misery, Ulysses, who was 
pa.•^^ing that way, caused all the ears oC his company to l)e 
slopped with wax, and made liimself to be l.'ound to the 
iiiainraast, with special comaiandment to his mariners not 
to be loosed, albeit hiiuself sliould reriuire them so to do. 
But Orpheus disdained to be so bound, and with a shrill 
and sweet voice, singing the prtiises of his Gods to his 
harp, suppressed the songs of the Sirens, and so freed 
himself from their danger. Tiiis," he adds, "is very grave 
atid excellent. The first means to slum inordinate plea- 
sures is to withstand and resist thcni in their beginniuiis, 
and seriously to avoid all occasions that are offered to entice 
the mind. But a re/H<?rfy, when tliese assail us, is found 
r.uder the conduct of Orpheus: for they tlint chant and 
resound heavenly praises, confound and destroy the voices 
and incantations of the Sirens. And Divine meditations do 
not only in power subdue all sensual pleasures, but also far 
exceed them in sweetness and delight." 

20. Avoid the pleasure that tvill bite to-morrow. 
The Italians have a similar proverb : — " Too dear is 

t'lie |)leasure that is purcliLised with pain." 

21. Better to go about than to fall into the ditch; 
Or, as we have heard it in the West of England, 

"Tlie farthest way about is the nearest way homo." This, 
as a plain matter of fact, is. in the country, particularly 
v.-here the unfrequented roads are bad, and the lanes long 
and narrow, well wortliy of attention. But under this pro- 
verb is couched a piece of advice ; To be quiet and i>atient, 
arul neither rash nor violent in seeking any desired end. 
Also, to be careful in a judgment or argument, how we get 
to a conclusion suddenly, or " as the crow Hies." 

22. The case is ALTt;Ri:D, qtwth Ploivden. 

This is a saying well known in Sliropshire. Ed- 
mund Ploi\den was a great cotnmon lawyer in the rei'ni of 
I'.Iizabeth, born tit I'lowden, in Shropshire. The following 
circumstance is said to have given rise to the proverb: 
I'lowden, on being asked by a neighbour. What remedy 
lhe;e was in law against a person, whose hogs had tres- 
passed upon a certain piece of ground, answered, He mi<'ht 
have a good remedy. But the other replying that they 
were his fPlowdens) hogs, " Nay, then, neighbour," 
qtioth Plowden, " the ease is altered ! ' 

It is a great duty, to do as we would be done by, and to 
love our neighbour as ourselves : but poor human nature's 
notion IS, that " Charity begins at home," and with too 
many it " ends there also. However, the proverb is a 
gooH one, as showing that it is not consistent with justice 
for the same person to be both party and judge in a case 
At the same time, it is due to I'lowdens memory, to add, 
that he was not likely to prevaricate so meanly : for Cam- 
DKN calls him " a man second to none in his profession for 
honour and integrity." In choosing the name of a lawyer 
to tack to the proverb, our ancestors, perhaps, merely took 
one of the most eminent of the time. M. 

Thk Polype, or Polypus, is a frcsh-wator animal of 
the Class Radiata, or Radiated Animals*'. It is 
possessed of most extraordinary properties, which 
have been demonstrated by hundreds of experiments. 



The first discovery of the Polypus was made by 
Monsieur Leeuwenhoeck, who, in the year 1703, pre- 
sented an account of it to the Royal Society of Lon- 
don ; but the discovery of its amazing property of 
reproducing the several parts, when divided and 
subdivi.ied, so that each piece becomes in a little 
time a perfect animal, was not made till the year 
1740, by Monsieur Trembley, at the Hague. That 
celebrated naturalist, in a letter to the then President 
of the Royal Society, gave an account of this ani- 
mal, which ho found in ditches attached to duck- 
weed and other aquatic plants. Having some 
doubts whether it was a plant or an animal, he cut it 
in two, for the purpose of closer examination, and, to 
his astonishment, in a little time he found two per- 
fect animals, the tail end having shot out a new head, 
and the head end a new tail ! Scarcely believing his 
own eyes, he repeated the experiment upon the same 
animals, and with a similar result, for in a little time 
he had four perfect animals instead of one ! 

This account, with various other experiments, was 
laid before the Society, but it was deemed so im- 
probable, that no one gave any credit to the story, 
until M. Trembley sent over some specimens, upon 
which experiments were tried with equal success ; 
and the same animals were soon after found to be as 
plentiful and common in this country as on the 

• It is not easy to say what is the size of this animal, 
as it possesses the power of contracting or dilating 
 See Saturday Magazine, Vo\. II., pp. ^%, 148, 206. 




its body at pleasure, from the length of an inch and 
the size of a hog's bristle, to the shortness of the 
twelfth part of an inch, with a proportionate increase 
in thickness. Its body is round and tub-like, 
having at one end a head, surrounded with six, eight, 
ten, or more arms or feelers, with which it catches 
and c()n\eys its prey to the mouth in the centre : 
and at the other end is the tail, by which it fixes 
itself to any thing at pleasure, by means of suction. 

There have been many different species discovered, 
the most beautiful of which is the Plumed Polypus, 
which lives in a sheath or case under the duck-weed. 
All the species are found in clear running-water, 
adhering to sticks, stones, and water-plants ; they 
subsist on insects, and are easily kept alive for a long 
time in glasses, by frequently changing the water, 
and feeding them with small red worms, found in 
the mud of ditches, or with other small insects. 

The production of its young is different from the 
common course of nature in other animals, for these 
grow as it were from the side or any other part of 
the parent, in the form of a small pimple, which 
lengthens and enlarges every hour, and becomes, in 
about two days, a perfect animal, when it drops from 
the parent. Before it separates, however, it frequently 
has another growing from its side, and sometimes 
a third from the second, even before the first is 
separated, so that four generations are thus seen 
attached to each other. The voracity of these 
creatures is almost beyond belief, individuals having 
been known to swallow a worm nearly three times 
their own size. 

This animal is first worm-.'iliapcd, and of the same 
kind of tender substance with tlie horns of aconimim 
snail. While adhering by one end, like a sucker, to 
water-plants and other substances, the head end, 
surrounded with its feelers, like rays diverging from 
a centre, draws towards its mouth the small worms 
or other insects which come within its reach. Its 
prey is sometimes swallowed with such avidity as to 
fly out again, but is secured by the feelers and 
returned to the mouth. After its food is digested in 
its stomach, it returns the remains of the substances 
on which it feeds through its mouth again, its whole 
body being nothing more than a kind of bag. 

The Hydra Fusca may be turned inside-out, like a 
glove, when the stomach will become the outer skin, 
and the outer skin the lining of the stomach. 

The Marine Polypus is different in form from 
the Fresh- Water Polj'pus, but is nourished, and may 
be increased in the same manner; so that small 
pieces cut off of the body of the living animal, soon 
give indications, that they contain not only the 
principle of life, but the faculty of increasing and 
multiplying. In this class may be included the 
Corals, Corallines, Sponges, and some others. Tlie 
more compact bodies, known by the appellations of 
star-stones, brain-stones, petrified fungi, and the 
like, wliich are brought from the East and West 
Indies, are also of the same origin. A beautiful 
species of this animal is found on our coasts, which 
from its form and colour, is called the Hea Anemone. 
It is of a truncated form, about an inch and half 
long, and an inch wide. It adheres firmly to the 
rocks or stones in the sea, having a multitude of 
feelers placed round the mouth. When these are 
expanded, it exhibits a form exactly like the anemony, 
tiie colours being bright purple, crimson, and scarlet. 
This animal is difficult to be kept alive, on account 
of its requiring a fresh supply of sea- water every day. 

The Marine Polypi include the various species of 
Madrepores, Millepores, Tubipores, Chain-Coral, &c., 
lii !ill their endless and nitercsting varieties. These form 

the connecting link betwixt the animal and vegetable 
kingdoms, consequently ranking last in the scale of 
the former, and first in that of the latter. Here we 
see displayed in a wonderful manner the wisdom and 
power of that Being with whom it is equally easy to 
make a world, and to form an insect too small for 
the eye of man to perceive, and who has filled the 
air, the earth, and the sea, with animals and creeping 
things innumerable! 


Who passed many years of his life in different 
islands of the East Indies, zealously devoting him- 
self to the welfare and improvement of the people 
ujider his government, often mentions in his letters 
his domestic happiness, and gives an affecting ac- 
count, afterwards, of the sad reverse; when his 
children and friends fell a sacrifice to the climate, 
and he seemed left almost alone in a foreign land. 
The following extracts are taken from his Life and 
Correspondence, published by his widow. 

The early part of his residence at Bencoolen, in 
Sumatra, in 1S20, was, perhaps, one of the happiest 
periods in Sir Stamford's life : he was beloved by all those 
under his control ; the natives and chiefs appreciated the 
interest he took in their improvement, and placed implicit 
rehance upon his opinion and counsel. 

The consciousness of being beloved, is a delightful, 
happy feeling, and Sir Stamford RafHes acknowledged 
with thankfulness, at this time, that every wish of his 
heart was gratified. Uninterrapted health had prevailed 
in his family, his children were his pride and delight, and 
they had already imbibed from him, the taste for natural 
history, which he so delighted to cultivate : this will not be 
wondered at, even at their early age, when it is added, that 
two young tigers and a bear, were for some time in the 
children's apartments, under the charge of their attendant, 
without being confined in cages, and it was a curious 
scene, to see the children, the liear, the tigers, a blue 
mountain-bird, and a favourite cat, all playing together. 
the parrot's beak being the only object of awe to all the 

Perhaps, few people, in a public station, led so simple a 
life. He rose early, and delighted in driving into the 
villages, inspecting the plantations, and encouraging the 
industry of llie people: he always had his children with 
him as he went from one pursuit to another, superintending 
the draftsmen, of whom he had always five or six, engaged 
on subjects of natural history, or visiting the extraordinary 
collection of animals, who were always domesticating in , 
the house. He seldom dined alone, considering the 
settlement as a family, of which he was the head, and the 
evening was spent in reading, music, and conversation : he 
ne\«r had any game of amusement in his house. 

Amidst these numerous sources of enjoyment, however, 
he never forgot that the scene was too bright to continue 
unclouded, and often gently warned his wife, not to expect 
to retain all the blessings God in his bounty had heaped 
upon them at this time, but to feel, that such happiness 
once enjoyed, ought to shed a bright ray over the future, 
however dark and trying it might become. After three 
years of uninterrupted health and happiness, a sad reverse 
took place; the blessings most prized were withdrawn; 
the child most dear to the father's heart, whose brightness 
and beauty were his pride and happiness, exjjired after a 
few liours' illness; and from this time, until his return to 
England, sickness and death prevailed in his family : but 
God's Holy Spirit, enabled him to receive these alliicttons 
with meekness, and to feel that they were trials of faith, 
not judgments of anger. 

Of this child. Sir Stamford Raffles frequently speaks in 
his letters, in such terms as the following — "Had this 
dear boy been such as we usually meet with in this wovld, 
time would, ere this, have reconciled us to the loss — but 
such a child! Had you but seen him, and known hira, 
you must ha\e doted; his beauty and intelligence were 
so far above those of other children of the same age, that 
he shone among them as a sun, enlivening and enlight- 
ening every thing around him. " 

As an example of the character and feeling of the 



I March 1, 

natives, Lady Raffles relates, that when she was almost 
overwhelmed with grief, for the loss of their favourite 
child, — unable to bear the sight of her other children — 
unable to bear even the light of the day, — humbled upon 
Uer couch with a feeling of misery, — she was addressed by 
a poor, ignorant, native woman, of the lowest class, (who 
had been employed about the uwsery,) in terms of reproach 
not to be forgotten, " I am come, because you have been 
here shut up many days in a dark room, and no one dares 
to come near you. Are you not ashamed to grieve in this 
manner, when you ought to be thanking God, for having 
given you the most beautiful child that ever was seen? 
Were you not the envy of every body? Did any one ever 
see him, or speak of him, without admiring him; and 
instead of letting this child continue in this world, till he 
should be worn out with trouble and sorrow, has not God 
taken him to heaven in all his beauty ? What would you 
have more ? For shame ! leave off weeping, and let me open 
a window." 

In subsequent letters. Sir Stamford says, " We have this 
morning buried our beloved Charlotte. Poor Marsden was 
carried to the grave not ten days before, — within the last 
six months, we have lost our three eldest children; judge 
what must be our distress. We have now only one child 
left. We were, perhaps, too happy, too provid of our 
blessings; and if we had not received this severe check, 
we might not sufficiently have felt and known the neces- 
sity of an hereafter. The Lord's will be done, and we are 

When his public duties pennitted Sir Stamford Raffles 
to return to England, which had become absolutely ne- 
sessary for his health, he embarked on board the Fame, the 
unfortunate fiite of which, is described in the following 

" We embarked on the 2nd of February, 1 82 1, in the 
Fame, and sailed at daylight for England with a fair wind, 
and every prospect of a quick and comfortable passage. 
The ship was every thing we could wish ; and, having 
closed my charge at Bencoolen much to my satisfaction, it 
was one of the happiest days of my life. We were per- 
haps too happy, for in the evening came a sad reverse. 
Lady Raffles had just gone to bed, and I had thrown off 
half my clothes, when a cry of ' Fire ! fire !' roused us from 
our calm content, and in five minutes the whole ship was 
in flames. I found that the fire had its origin imniudiately 
under our cabin. ' Down with the b(jats.' — ' Lower Lady 
Rallies.' — ' Gi\e her to me,' says one ; — ' I'll take her,' says 
the captain. — ' Throw the gunpov.der overboard.' — ' It 
cannot be got at; it is in the magazine close to the fire.' — 
' Push off, push ofl, — stand clear of the after part of the 

" All this passed nuich quicker than I can write it. AVe 
pushed off, and as wo did so, the flames burst out of our 
cabin-window, and the whole of th.e after-part of the ship 
was in flames. Wc hailed the boat which pushed off 
from the other sitle ; — ' Have you all on board?' ' Yes, 
all, save one.' — ' Who is he?' ' Johnson, sick in his cot.' 
— 'Can we save him?' ' No, impossible.' — At this mo- 
ment the poor fellow, scorched I imagine by the flaiiies, 
roared out most lustily, having run upon deck. The 
captain pulled under the bowsprit of the ship, and picked 
the poor fellow up. Tlie alarm was given at about twenty 
minutes past eight ; there was not a soul on board at half- 
past eight, and in less than ten minutes after, she was one 
grand mass of fire, the masts and sails in a blaze, and 
rocking to and fi'o, threatening to fall in an instant. 
' There goes her mizen mast: pull away my boys: there 
goes the gunpowder. — Thank God ! thank God !' 

" To make the best of our misfortune, we availed our- 
selves of the light from the ship to steer our course to the 
shore. She continued to burn till midnight, when the 
saltpetre which she had on board took fire, and sent up a 
brilliant and splendid llame, illuminating the horizon for 
fifty miles round, and casting that kind of blue light over 
us which is, of all others, most horrible. 

" At about eight or nine in the morning we saw a ship 
standing out to us from the roads; and here certainly 
came a minister of Pro\idence, in the character of a 
minister of the gospel, for the first person I recognised 
was one of our missionaries. 'Wlien we landed, and 
drove back to our former home, no words can do justice to 
the feeling, sympathy and kindness with which we wire 
hailed ; there was not a dry eye around us, and loud was 
the cry of ' God be praised !' 

" The loss I have to regret beyond all is the whole of my 

drawings, between two and three thousand, all my collec- 
tions, descriptions, and papers of every kind ; and to con- 
clude, I will merely notice, that there was scarce aw 
unknown animal, bird, beast, or fish, or an interesting 
plant that we had not on board. All, all has perished ; 
but thank Grod, our lives have been spared, and we do not 

The morning after the loss of all that he had been 
collecting for so many years. Sir Stamford recommenced 
sketching his large map of Sumatra, set all his drafls- 
men to work in making new drawings, despatched a 
number of people into the forests to collect more anitnals, 
and neither murmur nor lamentation ever escaped liis lips; 
on the contrary, on the following sabbath, he publicly 
returned thanks to Almighty God, for having preserved 
the lives of those who had been in such imminent danger. 

Sir Stamford Rallies again embarked for England, 
in April, and arrived in safety by the Mariner, in 
August ; in less than two years after his return, he 
was seized with apoplexy, and died in London, in 

The fo'lowing beautiful lines on the Grave, were written by Herbert 

Knowles, a youth, who soon afterwards was laid in the grave himself. 
His life had been eventful and unfortunate, till his great merits were 
discovered by persons able to appreciate them, and willing to assist 
the author. He was then placed under a kind and able instructor, 
and arrangements had been made for supporting him at the Uni- 
versity ; but he had not enjoyed that prospect many weeks, before It 
pleased God to remove him to a better world. The reader will 
remember that they are the verses of a school-boy, who had not 
long been taken from one of the lowest stations of life, and he will 
then judge what might have been expected from one capable ot 
writing with such strength and originality, upon so trite a subject. 
But had he published volume after volume, he would never have 
established a surer claim to remembrance, than he has made good by 
these stanzas. 


' It is good for us to be liere; if tliou wilt, let na make liere three taber. 
nacles, one for Thee, ami one for Moses, ami one for Elias.' Matt, xvii, 4. 

Methinks it is good to be here. 
If thou wilt, let us build: but for whoml 

Nor Elias nor Moses appear. 
But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom. 
The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb. 

Shall we build to Ambition 1 Oh, no ! 
Affrighted he shrinketh away : 

For, see, they would pin him below 
In a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay. 
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey. 

To Beauty? Ah, no! she forgets 
The charms which she wielded before; 

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets. 
The skin which but yesterday fools could adore 
For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore. 

Shall we build to the purple of Pride 1 
The trappings which dizen the proud? 

Alas'. lhe> are all laid a.side: 
And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed. 
But the long winding-sheet, and the fringe of the shroud. 

To Riches? Alas! 'tis in vain. 
Who hid, in their turns have been hid : 

The treasures are squandered again. 
And here, in the grave, are all metals forbid, 
But the tinsel that shone on the dark coffin-lid. 

To the pleasures which Mirth can afford? 
The revel, the laugh, and the jeer ? 

Ah! here is a plentiful board, 
But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer. 
And none but the worm is a reveller here. 

Shall we build to Affection and Love? 
Ah no ! they have withered and died. 

Or fled with the spirit above. 
Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side by side, 
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied. 

Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot grieve. 
Not a sob nor a sigh meets mine ear, 

Which compa-ssion itself could relieve! 
Ah sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, nor fear ; 
Peace, peace, is the watch-word, the only one here. 

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow? 
Ah, no! for his empire is known. 

And here there are trophies enow ; 
Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone. 
Are :he signs of a sceptre that none may disown. 

The first tabernacle to Hoi'i; we will build. 
And look for the sleepers around us to rise! 

The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd; 
And the third to the Lamh of the great sacrifice. 
Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skiM 





In a former paper*, we endeavoured to explain the 
principle of Self Supporting Dispensaries, and 
jjointed out the beneficial eflFect that might be ex- 
pected to result from their general adoption. That 
t article having produced numerous inquiries on the 
I subject, we shall now proceed to a statement of facts, 
extracted from the Reports of some few of these 
Dispensaries, established both in smaller and more 
populous places, in various parts of the kingdom. 

One of the earliest places where the experiment was 
tried, was Atherstone in Warwickshire; and there, 
it appears, the Dispensary reckoned, in the first year, 
7G4 free members, (that is, members who, by their 
contributions, entitled themselves to medical aid in 
the case of sickness,) and had a siu-plus income of 
£80 \ls. 3irf., to be divided among the medical 
practitioners of the place. 

In the village of Wellesbourne, (a village strictly 
agricultural,) we learn by the Sixth Half Yearly 
Report, that the subscribing Free Members had 
gradually increased from 140 to 225. It also ap- 
pears, that only two or three persons had applied to 
the Honorary Members for White Tickets, that is, 
tickets enabling the holders to obtain medical relief 
without contributing; a circumstance highly grati- 
fying to the Committee, and showing there was no 
disposition on the part of the labourer to solicit 
gratuitous relief, while, by a small contribution, even 
from the hard earnings of his own industry, he was 
allowed to provide against the time of sickness and 

In mentioning Chesham in Bucks, we can give no 
report of the Self Supporting Dispensary established 
in that place, as it dates only from the year 1833. 
We are, however, induced to advert to this case, 
both on account of the remarkable liberality of the 
medical gentlemen of the place, and also, because it 
exhibits an example of the manner, in which a num- 
ber of adjacent villages may combine with a central 
town, and that a town of no great magnitude, for 
the purpose of obtaining the advantages of one of 
these institutions. 

We now proceed to mention some larger places, 
where, it must be allowed, the operation of the 
system can best be developed and exemplified. 

By the last report received from Derby, it appears 
the Free Members were upwards of 800, and the 
Dispensary was going on well, with satisfaction to 
the Committee, and benefit to the public. 

At Burton on Trent, the Dispensary thrives, and 
the members consider themselves a model for similar 
institutions. They had, last year, a surplus income 
of £100, which was laid by in store, to meet any 
additional expense of cordials, wine, drugs, &c., 
which might be required, if the place should be 
visited by any virulent epidemic. 

We will only add the case of Coventry, where a 
Dispensary on the improved principle is established, 
with a series of excellent rules, and with such good 
guccess as might have been anticipated. The Free 
Members are 2800. There is, also, a sufficient 
income to remunerate and to satisfy the medical men 
attached to the Dispensary. Nor can its popularity 
among the poor be better evinced, than by the fact, 
that, in the last year only, nearly seventy labouring 
persons have at once paid I Os. each, in order to be 
admitted members of the Dispensary, under cir- 
cumstancL-.-? peculiarly designated by one of its rules. 
At Coventry, the great want seema to be, that ot 

• .^aturdinj Mitginine, Vol. III., p. 230. 

contributions and donations from persons not re- 
ceiving benefit from the Dispensary. 

We will not cite any other instances of these 
Dispensaries; but will now merely observe, that, 
wherever they have been established, in proportion 
to their success and efficacy, they have been practi- 
cally found to foster in the poor, the pride of honest 
independence, and to teach them forethought and 
forbearance; — they have tended to separate the pru- 
dent from the improvident and vicious poor; — they 
have been effective auxiliaries to Savings' Banks ; — 
they have checked mistaken charity; — they have 
mitigated and averted some of the evils of the poor- 
laws ; — they have repi-essed a disposition to riot and 
disturbance; — and, while they have afforded many 
advantages to medical practitioners, they have led 
individuals of different professions, and of varying 
opinions, to meet and act together in promoting 
schemes of real beneficence. 

It may, however, be briefly added, that the prin- 
ciple of these societies of Mutual Assurance against 
sickness in general, may be applied to a provison 
against any particular disorder ; — of which there was 
an excellent exemplification at 3outham, the place 
where the Self Supporting Dispensaries originated. 
In the year 1832, when the country was visited by 
the Cholera, at the suggestion of Mr. H. L. Smith, 
the founder of these Dispensaries, seventy-five 
persons of Southam agreed to pay from 6d. to 2s. 6d. 
a week, so long as the disease continued within 
twenty miles of the town, or till all the demands on 
the Treasurer were paid. This fund was to be 
applied, under the direction of a committee, towards 
allowing to the subscribers from five to thirty shillings 
per day, while the disease should be in their houses. 
These contributions were made principally by- small 
tradesmen and labourers, and were really and truly a 
fulfilment of the precept of every man laying by in 
store as God had prospered him. In four months there 
was upwards of £50. in the Savings' Bank. And 
what is most remarkable, however the fact may be 
accounted for, there was a cessation of the disease in 
the town and neighbourhood, from the day the col- 
lectors of the Cholera Assurance Society commenced 
their visitations. The sums contributed for this 
especial purpose, were returned to the subscribers 
when the disease was duly reported to be at an end. 

G. C. 

Punctuality. — Mr. M , a merchant of M , was a 

great lover of punctuality in all its forms. Calling upon a 
mechanic one day, who was notorious for the nonfulfilment 
of his engagements, and by whom he had frequently been 

deceived, "When," says he, "Mr. S , can I liaTe my 

work finished and sent home? Take your own time, but 
tell me positively, and do not deceive me, for I do not like 
to be disappointed." " On Thursday next," says the 
mechanic, " if I am living, you shall positively have it." 
Thursday came and passed, biit no work made its appear- 
ance. In the evening the merchant called upon the printer, 
with the request that he would insert the death of Mr. 

S , which he accordingly did in the following morning's 

paper. What was our mechanic's sur])rise, on taking up 
the paper the next day, to find an announcement of his 
own death ! Up lie goes to the printer for an explanation. 

Ther« he was told that Mr. M authorized it, and they 

had supposed it correct. He, of course, repairs to the 

merchant to know what it means. Mr. M shows great 

surprise on beholding liim, and can hardly be persuaded lie 
is not a ghostly appearance, " For," says he, " you solemnly 
promised me, that if you were tivinff, I should have my 
work done and returned on Thursday: no work appearing, 
1 very naturally concluded you were dead, and had it 

accordingly so announced." Mr. S was abashed and 

silent, and, we hope, made better by the well-intended 


[March 1, 1834. 


The sound state of the bridge of Wandipore, when 
it was visited by Captain Turner in 1783, is men- 
tioned by him as a striking proof of the durability 
-if turpentine-fir, of which it was constructed: its 
age at that time was one hundred and forty years, 
and it exhibited no symptom of decay, though no 
composition of any kind had been made use of, to 
protect the wood from the effects of tlie weather. 
He describes the bridge as of " singular lightness 
and beauty in its appearance; it is composed entirely 
of fir, and has not the smallest piece of iron, or any 
other metal to connect its parts. It has three gate- 
ways ; — one on each side of the river, and another 
erected in the stream, upon a pier. The span of the 
first bridge, which occupies two-thirds of the breadth 
of the river, measures one hundred and twelve feet: 
it consists of three parts, nearly equal to each other 
in length; the two ends, having a considerable slope, 
raise the elevation of the centre platform, which is 
horizontal, some feet above the floor of the gateways. 
Four rows of timbers, inserted in the masonry of the 
bank and pier, support each end of the arch; the 
centre platform is laid across at the top. The beams 
and planks are all of hewn fir ; and they are pinned 
together by large wooden pegs, which form all the 
fastening I could observe. It is secured by a neat 
light rail. The bridge from the pier to the hill on 
which the castle stands, has a penthoxise over it, 
whieh is covered with shingles." Embassy 1o Thibet. 


On Tuesday morning we started for the fumous waterfall 
of the Rinken, called Rinkenfoss. Onlv one horse was 
in the village ; but the distance was short, and after the 
first ten miles, a horse could not proceed. For four miles 
we scrambled over rocks, where, in places, there was 
nothin(5 more than a ledge just large enouffh to catch the 
side of the foot. Tlie scenery is grand beyond description. 
The mountains, on either side of the valley, are covered to 
the very summits with wood, while, in the middle, the river 
rolls its angry waters through a rugged channel, whose 
inclination augments constantly their velocity 

At length we reached the foss. I do not remember to 
have seen a sight so calculated to inspire terror. The 
Moen rushes through a rock blackened by time, and falls 
from a height of 450 feet i)erpendicularly, into a caldron 
of the same dark material. The foam, or rinken, rises so 
high as to conceal froiri the distant spectator the depth of tlie 
fail, which we could duly appreciate only when lying on the 
ground, and looking over the edge of the precipice at its 
highest point. Whether real or fancied, the earth seemed 
to tremble under the concussion of the continuous torrent. 

At this moment the sun burst from behind a cloud, and, 
shining upon the falling water and the playful spray, cast 
obliquely on the dark background a perfect double rainbow, 
approaching nearly to a circle. Tlie effect was exceedingly 
striking. Placed in tlie only point where the circumference 
was incomplete, we saw ourselves clothed with the rainbow. 
Unprepared as we were for so extraordinary a position, it 
was too sublime, and we almost shuddered at the glory of 
the vesture with which we were surrounded: while in the 
beauty and grandeur of this masterpiece of His hand, we 
recognised the ])ower of Him who " weigheth the moun 
tains in scales, ' and " eovereth himself with light as with 
a garment." 

This plienomenon, in itself so remarkable, was rendered 
yet more interesting by the recollection, that equal dimen- 
sions are exhibited by the rainbow of scarcely any otlier 
waterfall in the world, and never attained by the co\enanted 
bow in the clouds. You remember that, from the relative 
position of the spectator and the sun, and from the convex 
figure of the earth, the natural rainbow can never be seen 
larger than a semicircle, and that only for a moment when 
the sun is emerging from, or dipping under, the horizon. 
Elliotts Letters from the North. 

Knowledge is never of very serious use to man, until it 
has become part of his customary course of thinking. The 
knowledge which barely pa.sses through the mind resembles 
that which is gained of a country by a traveller, who is 
whirled through it in a stage : or by a bird Hitting over it, 
in his passage to another. Dwioht. 



PuiiLnHtii ]N W,:kki.v Numbers, price One TENNy, and ]» .Muntih.v Tart;, 

pp-TOE Sixpence, AND 

Sola by :ill liuokrilk-is .md NuwsvriKlfiii in llu' Knigclum 



N9 108. 




S Price 
f OyK Penny. 



RoKEBv, situated at the junction of the rivers Tees 
Slid Greta, in a picturesque part of the North 
Riding of Yorkshire, possesses no common claims 
to the attention of the traveller. In this parish, 
rich in beautiful scenery, may be discovered the 
traces of a Roman station : it is also distinguished 
by the fine remains of an ancient priory. The lords 
|>f Rokeby were celebrated as soldiers and states- 
men, from the Conquest to the reign of Charles the 
First, when the family suffered grie\()usly, on em- 
YoL. IV 


bracmg the cause of that monarch, and the estafo 
soon passed into other hands. But perhaps, the 
circumstance which, in the present day, gives the 
chief interest to Rokeby, is its having formed the 
scene of a poem by Sir Walter Scott. The Lay of 
the last Minstrel, Marmion, The Lady of the Lake, and 
liokeby, had gained a high literary reputation for that 
great writer, long before " the Author of Waverley,' 
or, as he was sometimes called, " The Great Un 
known/' came before the world. 




[March 6, 

la Rokeby, with its enchanting views, and the 
wild traditions connected with the place, Scott seems 
to have found much that was suited to his taste : — 

A stern, and lone, yet lovely road, 
As e'er the foot of Minstrel trode ; 

and the readers of that poem, who have visited 
the spot from which it takes its title, must be struck 
with the skill with which the poet has introduced the 
various interesting objects in the neighbourhood, — 
(Barnard Castle — " Eglistone's gray ruins;" Mort- 
ham Tower — " the Roman Legion") — and still more 
with the accuracy, as well as spirit, shown in his 
poetical descriptions of scenery. Indeed, so faith- 
ful was he to nature, whether portraying her milder 
or more majestic features, that after going attentively 
over some of his more finished representations, we 
might almost fancy we had been viewing a well- 
executed picture. In passing from Yorkshire to 
Durham, over the modern arch called Abbey Bridge, 
which is represented in the engraving, we look down 
on a rocky ravine : through this the Tees forces its 
passage, amidst irregular masses of rock, in the 
crevices of which, many trees and shrubs have fixed 
their roots ; and we may then call to mind the verses 
of the Northern Bard : 

Then in broad lustre shall be shown, 
That mighty trench of living stone; 
And each huge trunk that from the side, 
Reclines him o'er the darksome tide, 
Where Tees, full many a fathom low, 
Wears with his rage no common foe; 
For pebbly bank, nor sand-bed here. 
Nor clay-mound checks his fierce career. 
Condemned to mine a channelled way. 
O'er solid sheets of marble gray. Canto ii. 

His account, also, of the torrent of Greta, and of the 
banks on each side, is no less accurate than grand 

It seemed some mountain rent and riven, 

A channel for the stream had given, 

So high the cliffs of lime-stone gray, 

Hung beetling o'er the torrent's way, 

Yielding, along their rugged base, 

A flinty Coot-path's niggard space ; 

Where he, who winds 'twixt rock and wave, 

May hoar tlie headlong torrent rave; 

And like a steed in frantic fit, 

That flings the froth from curb and bit. 

May view her chafe her waves to spray, 

O'er every rock that bars her way ; 

Till foam-globes on her eddies ride, 

Thick as the schemes of human pride, 

That down life's current drive amain. 

As frail and frothy, and as vain ! 

The cliffs that rear their haughty head, 
High o'er the river's darksome bed. 
Were now all naked, wild, and gray, 
Now waving all with greenwood spray ; 
Here trees to every crevice clung. 
And o'er the dell their branches liung, 
And there, all splintered and uneven, 

ITie shivered rocks ascend to heaven. Canto ii. 

The Abbey Bridge was built by the late Mr. Mor- 
ritt, of Rokeby. Through the arch, on the left, are 
seen the ruins of Egglestone priory or abbey, stand- 
ing on the brink of an eminence at the junction of 
the Tees with a little dell called Thorsgill. In page 
96 of the present Number, our readers may have 
a nearer view of this interesting Praemonstraten- 
sian Priory*. That excellent antiquary, the late 

• Tfie Pricmomtratcnsian canons were those who followed cer- 
tain rules laid down by St. Norbert, in 1120. This order obtained 
its name (in Latin, I'ranwiistratus) from a story told by the monks. 
They declared that their founder received his rules bound in gold 
from the hand of St. Augustine, whose apparition came to him in 
the night! After this distinguished visit, it was alleged that St. 
Norbert received another from an angel, who showed liim the mea- 
dow in which he was to build his first monastery ; from which circum- 
•tance, it was called Pr(rmotistratus (or Prfoionstr^), meaning 
Foreshown. This order first settled in England at Newhouse, 
LincolDBliire, in 1140 

Rev. Dr. "Wliitaker, expresses his regret, that its 

foundation cannot be assigned to the Rokeljys. The 

founder is unknown: it is, however, supposed to 

have been Ralph De Multon, in the beginning of the 

reign of Richard the First. Dr. Whitaker describes the 

church, as being still nearly entire ; but complains, in 

his peculiar way, of " a wide, yawning east-window, 

supported, instead of ramified tracery, by perpendi- 

1 cular mullions, which give an impression of tempo- 

[ rary props, erected to sustain a falling arch. Of this 

; design," he adds, " so unhappily and tastelessly con- 

! ceived, I have only seen one other specimen; yet it 

j has not escaped the gothicizers of the present day, 

j who, in their neglect of better things, have not failed 

' to copy the east- window of Eglestone!" The church 

was the place of interment for the Rokebys, and 

formerly contained the tombs of members of that 

family, as well as those of Bowes and Fitzhugh. 

Scott alludes to the present state of the ancient fabric, 

and the injuries it sustained from republican fury, 

with the feelings of a poet and an antiquary : 

The reverend pile lay wild and waste, 

Profaned, dishonoured, and defaced : 

Through storied lattices no more 

In softened light the sunbeams pour, 

Gilding the Gothic sculpture rich. 

Of shrine, and inonument, and niche. 

The civil fury of the time 

Made sport of sacrilegious crime; 

For dark fanaticism rent 

Altar, and screen, and ornament ; 

And peasant hands tbe tombs o'erthrew, 

Of Bowes, of Rokeby, and FitzHugh. — ^Cantovi. 

No part of the ancient mansion, formerly in- 
habited by this once-powerful family, is now in being. 
Mortham Tower, however, became the dwelling of 
some of its later branches, till altered circumstances 
compelled them to part with this residence also. 

" The ancient castle of Rokeby," says Scott, 
" stood exactly upon the site of the present mansion, 
by which a part of its walls is enclosed. It is sur- 
rounded by a profusion of fine wood ; and the park 
in which it stands is adorned by the junction of the 
Greta and of the Tees. The title of Baron Rokeby 
of Armagh, was, in 1777, conferred on the Right 
Rev. R. Robinson, Primate of Ireland, descended of 
the Robinsons' family of Rokeby, in Yorkshire. 

" From the Robinsons, the estate was purchased by 
the late J. S. Morritt, Esq., whose son, J. B. S. Mor- 
ritt, Esq., is the present owner." This gentleman has 
a large collection of antiquities, many of which are 
Roman relics, discovered at Rokeby, and other cu- 
riosities connected with the situation. Dr. Whitaker 
renders the word Rokeby, as the dwelling near the 
Rock. Should our readers require further infor- 
mation on the subject, we recommend them to con- 
sult Whitaker's History of Richmondshire, and the 
notes to Scott's beautiful poem above quoted. 


The Emperor Charlemagne was desirous to have a magni- 
ficent bell cast for the church which he had built at Aix-la- 
Chapelle. Tlie artist Tancho, who had cast one very much 
admired for the church of St. Gall, was employed by the 
Emperor, and furnished at his own request with a great 
quantity of copper, and a hundred pounds' weight of silver, 
for the purpose. Tancho, being of a covetous disposition, 
kept the silver for his own use, and substituted in its room 
a sufficient quantity of highly-purified tin, with which he 
furnished a most admirable bell, and presented it to the 
Emperor. The historian adds, however, that it being 
suspended in the tower, the people were unable to ring it; 
Tancho himself being called in, pulled so hard that the 
iron tongue fell on him and killed him. Rankkn's His- 
tory of France. 



Origin of Money, &c. 

Variety of productioii is clearly the foundation of 
exchange ; for, as long as each person provides for 
all his own wants, and only for them, he will have 
nothing to part v/ith, and nothing to receive. Barter, 
then, having become a common matter of business, 
would naturally give place, in the progress of society, 
to the employment of some kind of Money. 

It is not intended to enter here on the important 
and curious questions which belong to the subject of 
money. It will be enough for our present purpose 
to state, that, by money is meant any commodity in 
general request, which is received in exchange for 
other commodities not to be directly used by the 
party receiving it (for thai is barter), but for the pur- 
pose of being again parted with, in exchange for 
something else. It is not the very article which the 
party wants, or expects hereafter to want ; but it is 
a security, or pledge, that he may obtain that article 
whenever he wants it from those who have it to 
spare. The herdsman who needed, or expected here- 
after to need, a supply of corn, might, if he could 
not in any other way effect an exchange, be willing to 
part with some of his cattle for cloth, of which he 

>had no need, in the expectation of being able to 
exchange that again for corn with some one who 
either needed it, or would take it in the same manner 
as he had done. The cloth would do as well as 
money, till it should reach the hands of one who 
designed to keep it for his own use. And it appears, 
that there are some parts of Africa, where pieces of 
cloth, of a certain fixed size and quahty, are, as it 
we.-e, the current coin of the country. In other 
I parts of Africa, wedges of salt are said to be used 
/ for the .>ame purpose. 

j But the herdsman would, most likely, rather 

I receive in this way, instead of any articles which he 
I did not himself need, some ornamental article in 
j general request, such as a bracelet, or necklace, of 
gold, silver, or valued shells or stones, not only as less 
bulky, and less liable to decay, but because they could 
be used hy him for the purpose of display, till he should 
have occasion to part with them, and could then bo 
paid away without inconvenience. Accordingly, 
the aim has always been to use, as a means of ex- 
change, rather than all others, articles of an orna- 
mental kind, prized for their beauty and rarity. Such 
are gcjld and silver, which have long been much the 
most generally used for this purpose ; — the cowrie- 
shells, admired for making necklaces, and commonly 
used as money throughout an extensive region in 
Africa, — the porcelain shells, adopted in like manner, 
in some parts of India; and the wampum of some of 
the native American Indians, which consists of a 
kind of bugles wrought out of shells, and used both 
as an ornament and as money. 

The Effect of Emulation. 

As wealth increased, the continued effect of Emulation 
would be, to make each man strive to surpass, or at 
least, not fall below his neighbours : for it is iniportant 
to keep in mind, that the selfishness, the envy, the 
unfairness, the baseness of every kind, which we so 
often see called forth in the competitions of worldly- 
minded men, are not caused by the increase of 
national wealth. Among poor and barbarous nations, 
we may find as much fraud, covetousness, vanity, and 
envy, called forth on the score of a string of beads, 
a hatchet, or a musket, as are to be found among 
wealthier states. 

The desire of wealth, and Emulation, the desire of 
equalling or surpassing others, are neither of them. 


m themselves, either virtuous or vicious. A desire 
of gain, which is either excessive, or has only selfish 
indulgence in view, is base and hateful; when the 
object is to keep one's family from want and depend- 
ence, it is praiseworthy : when wealth is sought as a 
means of doing good to others, the pursuit is noble. 
Emulation, again, when it becomes envy, is odious ; 
when directed to trifling objects, despicable; when 
duly controlled, and directed to good objects, is a 
useful and honourable hand-maid to virtue. And, 
in both cases, there are, between the highest and 
the basest motives, innumerable gradations. But it 
is to be observed, as a point most interesting in the 
present inquiry, that, by the wise and benevolent 
arrangement of Providence, even those who are only 
thinking of their own credit and advantage, are, in 
the pursuit of selfish ends, unconsciously assisting 
others. The public welfare is not left to depend 
merely on the operation of public spirit. 

The husbandman and the weaver exert their utmost 
industry and ingenuity to increase the produce of 
the earth and of the loom ; each, that he may be 
enabled to enjoy a better share of other productions : 
but, in so doing, the husbandman and the weaver 
cause men to be better paid and better clothed. And 
the effort of each man, with a view to his own credit, 
to rise, or, at least, not to sink, in society, causes, 
when this becomes general, the whole society to rise 
in wealth. 

The rate of progress thus occasioned by Emulation 
is never fixed; because the object aimed at by each of 
a great number, can never be reached by all of them. 
If men's desires were limited to a supply of the 
necessaries and commonest comforts of life, their 
efforts to reach this, would, indeed, bring the society 
up to a certain point, but not necessarily further: 
because this object might be gained by all. And if 
it were, the society might there become stationary. 
But when a great portion of its members are striving, 
each to attain, not merely an absolute, but a compa- 
rative degree of wealth, there must always be many, 
who, though they continue advancing, will yet remain 
in the same position with regard to their neighbours, 
who are equally advancing: and thus the same 
inducement will continue to operate from generation 
to generation. The race never comes to an end, 
while the racers are striving, not to reach a certain 
fixed goal; but each, either constantly to keep a-head 
of the rest, or, at least, not to be among the hind- 
most. D. 

Frugality of manners is the nourishment and strength of 
bodies politic : it is that, by which they grow and subsist, 
until they are corrupted by luxury, the natural cause of 
their decay and ruin. Bishop Behkkley. 

A STRANGE Case. — A case in law was related to Martin 
Luther; namely, that a miller had an ass which ran out of 
his paddock, and came to a river's side, where he went into 
a fisherman's boat that stood in the river, to drink thereout. 
But inasmuch as the boat had not been tied fast by the 
fisherman, it lloated away with the ass, so that the miller 
lost his donkey, and the fisherman his boat. Tlie miller 
thereupon, complained of the fisherman for neglecting 
to tie his boat fast ; and the fisherman accused the miller, 
for not keeping his ass at home, desiring satisfaction for 
his boat. Now, the question was, What is the law? Did 
the ass take the boat away, or the boat the ass ? Where 
upon Luther said, " These are called cases in law : they 
were both in error; the fisherman in not tying his boat 
fast, and the miller in not keeping his ass at home. 
There is a fault on both sides ; it is a chance-medley 
there was nef^ligence on both sides : such cases wave the 
rigour of lawyers : for the extreme rigour is not to be 
exercised, but only equity. All things are to be governed 
bv equitv." — Luther's Familiar Discourses. 




[March 8, 



As scarcely any of our readers are unconnected with, 
or uninterested in individuals, who are occasionally 
exposed to the perils of shipwreck, we give a sketch 
of the Cliff Waggon for communicating with 
persons who have been wrecked, or have reached 
the shore, at the bottom of high cliffs, to whom 
there is not any access from the summit, or by boats, 
on account of the heaviness of the sea, and the 
rocky nature of the coast. 

Attention was very painfully excited to the best 
means of rendering assistance on rocky and pre- 
cipitous coasts, to shipwrecked persons, when it was 
found, in the case of the Wilhelmina, a foreign 
vessel, that the Life-Boat, and Captain Manby's 
mortar apparatus, could not afford succour. The 
Wilhelmina, after a fearful suspense of many hours, 
in which there were occasional gleams of hope that 
she might escape, struck, and was speedily broken 
up against a detached rock, at some distance from 
the main cliffs, considerably to the southward of the 
entrance of the river Tyne. The labourers of the 
adjacent farms, and others, were watching her, with 
such ropes as they could procure. A portion of the 
wreck conveying five persons, drove in shore, and 
was brought by the wind into a bay : they seemed 
to have escaped : a subsequent wave carried them 
back into destruction. Though the cliff was not 
very high, there was not any path or descent, and 
the ropes were not strong enough, to allow of low- 
ering by them the men, amongst the anxious by- 
standers, who earnestly desired to make the dan- 
gerous experiment. In their sight, the whole crew 
of the Wilhelmina, including a woman and an infant 
child, perished*. 

The Cliff Waggon was invented by Mr. James 
Davison, master mariner, of Whitburn, near Sun- 
derland, who was for some time very active in 
charge of the Life-Boat, at Redcar, near the mouth 
of the river Tees, and has since been in the super- 
intendence of the establishment at Whitburn, for 
the preservation of life from shipwreck. The ma- 
chine here described, was built under the direction 
and at the expense of the Whitburn Establishment 
for the preservation of life from shipwreck. 

• Their bodies were eventually found, and buried with the rites 
of the Church of Englaad, in Whitburn Churchyard 

I It is a platform a a, 14 feet 9 mches, by 6 feet, made of 
i 1^ inch deal planks, guarded by rails a B at the sides and 
; one end, moving on four wheels, by one or two horses, with 
a shaft like a common waggon. Three strong uprights, 
I D n D, on each side, each 10 inches by 2^ thick, support an 
inclined beam ee, 17 feet long, and 6 inches by 5, on 
rollers, upon which works a sliding lever ff, 21 feet long, 
of the same dimensions as the supporting beam E B ; they 
are connected by hoops dd, and pass through the tops of 
the uprights d 1, d 2, and througli the bottom of d 3. At 
the extremity f of each lever, is suspended, by moans of 
blocks and the strongest patent rope, made of whale-line, 
a sling or seat; the ropes connected with which, pas* 
through a sheaf or block in the end, F, of each lever, and 
of the upright d 3 ; and thus, by the assistance of a few 
men, four or more persons with ropes, life-buoys, &c. 8ic., 
may be lowered down at the same time, from the top of 
the inaccessible cliff, to the aid of the unfortunate mariners 
below. One swing may remain down, if required, for the 
security of the men, when the sea beats upon the base ol 
the cliffs ; into the other swing, they can put each person 
as they rescue them from the waves. For women and 
children, or men who may be injured or exhausted, a 
strong wicker basket has been provided, to be substitute<l 
for the swing, in which they may be laid at length, and 
carried, when raised to the summit of the cliff, without tlie 
pain of further removal, to the nearest house. The ordi- 
nary sling is provided with a strong strap to buckle round 
the waist, and will with the person saved, convey a man to 
take care of him. 

When called into service, the waggon is backed as niMx 
to the edge of the most perpendicular part of the cliff, a.-i 
may be deemed sufliciently solid to bear tiie weight of il. 
It is mSde fast by letting down the spur-shores, or sUtys, 
G, 7 feet long and 2^ inches thick, at each side of the plat- 
form, and which must work deeper and deeper into the 
earth, if the waggon moves. The wheels are sunk, and it 
is moored by two strong grapnells, or devil's claws, tsoMx 
the tops of D 3, carried out as far as may be necessary, 1 1 . 
and by loading it with stones &c. If any cause of appre- 
hension exist, the horses, which drew the waggon may 
remain attached to the shaft, and the men employed in 
raising and lowering the swings, may stand on the grap 
nell ropes. 

The uprights D, at the lever ends f, are each 7 feet fi 
inches high, the two others on each side, are 5 feet high. 
The levers f f, may not only be extended so as to allow ftir 
unseen projecting parts on the face of the cliff, but may be 
drawn in again, merely by the continuance of the same 
pull, which raised the swing from the bottom of the cliff, 
so as to land the persons brought up. Each lever is pro- 
jected by means of a block at the inside of the upper part 
of D 1, the rope from which passes through a sheaf in the 
lower endy"of the lever, and is made fast at the outside of 




In a former volume* there was an account of the 
Pestilence at Athens, from the historian Thucydides ; 
some part of it is here repeated, as forming with the 
account of the same disease at Alexandria, an 
impressive contrast, and illustrating the peculiar 
influence of Christianity on the characters of men. 
The two cases here described, are, in their external 
circumstances, exactly similar, and both are of such 
a nature, as to call forth the undisguised expression 
of real feelings; the dilference of them being entirely 
moral, and created by the difference of religious 
sentiment. The latter of the two representations 
maj', in the noble contempt of death which it por- 
trays, be thought to discover something of excess- 
but it is to be considered, whether, in any possible 
state of man, we are warranted in expecting to find 
even the most sublime \'irtue unaccompanied by a 
tincture of human infirmity f. 

' Thucydides describes the total dejection and 
despair of those who felt themselves attacked ; they 
gave themselves up, and sunk without a struggle. 
Most men, through fear, forbore to visit the sick, 
and thus they died forlorn and destitute of attend- 
ance, by which means whole families became utterly 
extinct. In some places the corpses lay stretched 
out upon one another, both in the streets, and about 
the fountains, whither their rage for water had hur- 
ried them. The very temples, too, were full of the 
coqjses of those who had expired there ; for men fell 
alike into a neglect of sacred and social duties, and 
totally disregarded the rites of decent burial. This 
pestilence, too, gave rise to the most unbridled licen- 
tiousness, for when men saw the rich hurried away, 
and those who were before worth nothing, coming 
into immediate possession of their property, they 
began to live solely for pleasure ; and seeing a heavy 
judgment hanging over their heads, they thought it 
wise before it fell on them, to snatch some enjoy- 
ment of life; nor did they allow any fear of their 
gods, or respect for human laws, to be a check or. 
their licentiousness. Dionysius, Bishop of Alex- 
andria, gives a very different account of the plague 
which visited that city in the third century. 

After saying that there was no house were there 
was not one dead, he adds, " Oh that I could say, 
there is only one dead in every house, but the city is 
filled with lamentations, by reason of the multitude 
of corpses, and the daily dying." Yet they thought 
they ought not to account it a calamity, but an 
exercise and trial, in no way inferior to those of 
wars and persecutions from which they had lately 
suffered. His account proceeds thus: " Most of the 
brethren, by reason of their great love, and brotherly 
charity, sparing not themselves, cleaved one to 
another, visited the sick without weariness, and 
attended upon them diligently, administering to them 
in Christ, and most gladly dying with them. In 
this sort the best of our brethren departed this life : 
whereof some were presbjrters, some deacons, and 
others laymen, held in great reverence ; so that this 
kind of death, for the great piety and strength of 
■iaith, seems to differ in nothing from martyrdom. 
Moreover, they took the bodies of the departed 
saints into their uplifted arms, wiped their eyes and 
closed their mouths, carried them on their shoulders, 
and laid them out: they embraced them, washed 
them, and wrapped them in shrouds : and shortly 
after, these persons obtained the same kind offices 
from others : for the living continually traced the 
rtepg of the dead. 

" But among the heathen (in the same city), all 
fell out on the contrary. They drove the sick out 
of their houses, as soon as the first symptons of 
disease were observed: they shunned their dearest 
friends and relations : they threw out the sick, half 
dead, into the streets : they threw their dead, without 
burial, to the dogs : thus did they endeavour to evade 
partaking in the general fate, which notwithstanding 
the many expedients they used for that purpose, they 
could not easily escape " 

Vol. I.. D. 117. 

 T. W. Lancaster. Bamntoo Lectures. 


Cleanliness maybe defined to be the emblem of purity of 
mind, and may be recommended under the three following 
heads : as it is a mark of politeness, as it produces affection, 
and as it bears analogy to chastity of sentiment. First, it 
is a mark of politeness, for it is universally agreed upon, 
that no one unadorned with this virttte, can go into com- 
pany without giving a manifold offence; the different 
nations of the world are as much distinguished by their 
cleanliness, as by their arts and sciences ; the more they 
are advanced in civilization, the more they consult this part 
of politeness. Secondly, cleanliness may be said to be the 
foster-mother of affection. Beauty commonly produces 
love, but cleanliness preserves it. Age, itself, is not 
unamiable while it is preserved clean and unsullied ; like 
a piece of metal constantly kept smooth and bright, we look 
on it with more pleasure tlian on a new vessel cankered with 
rust. I might further observe, that as cleanliness renders 
us agreeable to others, it makes us easy to ourselves, that 
it is an excellent preservative of health; and that several 
Nices, both of mind and body, are inconsistent with the 
habit of it. In the third place, it bears a great analogy 
with chastity of sentiment, and naturally inspires refined 
feelings and passions ; we And from experience, that 
through the prevalence of custom, the most vicious actions 
lose their horror by being made familiar to us. On the 
contrary, those who live in the neighbourhood of good 
examples, lly from the fust appearance of what is shocking : 
and thus pure and unsullied thoughts are naturally 
suggested to the mind, bv those objects that perpetually 
encompass us when thev are beautiftU and elegant m their 

In the East, wnere tne warmtn of tne climate makes 
cleanliness more immediately necessary than in colder 
countries, it is a part of religion ; the Jewish law, (as well 
as the Mohammedan, which in some things copies after 
it,) is filled with bathings, purifications, and other rites of 
the like nature; and we read several injunctions of this 
kind in the Book of Deuteronomy. Addison. 

" Let me tell you," says Izaak Walton to his scholar, " I 
have a rich neighbour that is always so busy, that he has 
no leisure to laugh ; the whole business of his life is to get 
money, and more money, that he may still get more and 
more money ; he is still drudging on, and says that 
Solomon says, ' the diligent hand maketh rich ;' and it is 
true indeed, but he considers not that 'tis not in the power 
of riches to make a man happy. It was wisely said, by a 
man of great observation, ' that there be as many miseries 
beyond riches as on this side of them ;' and yet God deliver 
us from pinching poverty, and grant that, having a com- 
petency, we may be content and thankful. Let us not 
repine, or so much as think the gifts of God unequally 
dealt, if we see another abound with riches, when, as Grod 
knows, the cares that arc the keys that keep those riches, 
hang often so heavily at the rich man's girdle, that they 
clog him with weary days and restless nights, when others 
sleep quietly. Let us, therefore, be thankful ibr health and 
competence, and, above all, for a quiet conscience." 

The truest courage is always mixed with circumspection ; 
this being the quality which distinguishes the courage of 

the wise from the hardiness of the rash and foolish. 

Jones of Nayland. 

For every ill beneath the sun, 
There is some remedy, or none. 
Should there be one, resolve to find it 
If not, submit; and never mind it. 



[March 8, 1834 


On the passage over the Andes, are many brick huts, 
which are built to shelter travellers from the dreadful 
storms to which they are often exposed. 

Tliese storms, says Captain Head, are so violent, that 
no animal can live m them , there is no warmng, but 
all of a sudden, the snow is seen coming over the tops or 
the mountains in a hurricane of wind; hundreds of people 
have been lost in these storms; several had been starved 
in the hut where we stopped to rest, and only two years 
iHjfore, the winter, by suddenly settmg in, had shut up the 
iwssaee across the mountain, and had driven ten poor 
Iravellers to this hut. When the violence of the first 
storms had subsided, the courier came to the spot, and 
{.mm\ six of the ten lying dead in the hut, and by their 
■^jdes, the other four almost dead with hunger and cold. 
Tiiey had eaten their mules and their dog; and the bones 
.)i' these animals were now before us. 

These houses are all erected upon one plan, and are 
extremely well adapted to their purpose. They are ot 
hnck and mortar, and are built solid, ten or twelve feet 
hiirh with a brick staircase outside. The room, which is 
(Untile top of this foundation, in order to raise it above the 
»now, is about twelve feet square ; the walls are extremely 
thick, with two or three small loop-holes, about six inches 
square ; the roof is arched, and the floor is of brick. 

A building so small, and of so massive a construction, 
necessarily possesses the character of a dungeon ; and as 
one stands at the door, the scene around adds a melancholy 
gloom to its appearance, and one cannot help thinking how 
sad it must have been, to have seen the snow, day after 
dav; getting deeper and deeper, and the hope of escaping 
hourly diminishing, until it was evident that the path was 
impracticable, and that the passage was closed ! 

Even without these reflections, the interior is melancholy 
enough: the table, which had been fixed into the mortar, 
was torn away ; and to obtain a momentary warmth, the 
wretched people who had been confined there, had, in 
despair, burnt the very door which was to protect them 
from the elements. They had then, at the risk of their 
lives taken out the great wooden lintel, which was over the 
diiir' and had left the wall above it hanging merely by the 
alhesion of t!ic mortar. This had evidently been done 

with no instrument but their knives, and it must have been 
the work of many days. 

The state of the walls was also a melancholy testimony 
of the despair and horror they had witnessed. In all the 
places I have ever seen, which have been visited by 
travellers, I have always been able to read the names and 
histories of some of those who have gone before me ; but 
I particularly observed, that in these huts on the Andes, 
not a name was to be seen, nor a word upon the wall*. 
Those who had died in them were too intent upon their 
own sufferings ; the hon-or of their situation was unspeak- 
able, and thus these walls remain the silent monuments oi 
past misery. Head's Rough Notes. 

Waterton, in his Wanderings in South America, gives 
the following account of his catching a snake. He had 
sent his Indian servant, Daddy Quashi, to look for some- 
thing he had lost in the forest, and during his absence, 
he says, I observed a young Coulacanara, ten feet long, 
slowly moving onwards; I saw he was not thick enough to 
break my arm, in case he got twisted round it. Theie 
was not a moment to be lost. I laid hold of his tail with 
the left hand, one knee being on the ground ; with the 
right hand I took ofi" my hat, and held it as you would 
hold a shield for defence. 

The snake instantly turned, and came on at me, with 
his head about a yard from the ground, as if to ask me, 
what business I had to take liberties with his tail. I let 
him come, hissing and open-mouthed, within two feet of 
my face, and then, with all the force I was master of, I 
dro^e my fist, shielded by ray hat, full in his jaws. He 
was stunned and confounded by the blow, and ere he could 
recover himself, I had seized his throat with both hands, 
in such a position, that he could not bite me ; I then 
allowed him to coil himself round my body, and marched 
off with him as my lawful prize. He pressed me haid, 
but not alarmingly so. , . , . j • 

In the mean time. Daddy Quashi having returned, and 
hearing the noise which the fray occasioned, was coming 
cautiously up. As soon as he saw me, and in what 
company I was, he turned about and ran oft" home, I after 
him, and shouting to increase his fear. On scolding him 
for his cowardice, the old rogue begged I would forgive 
him, for that the sight of the snake had positively turned 
him sick. 

ECGi.KSTONF, ABBEY. See page 90. 

LONDON  Published by JOHN WILLIAM PARKER. WestSthand , and sold by all Booksellers. 


m 109. 




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■,jij/////if I fUjiuijiimjnnijiiim i m 


Vol. IV. 




TMarcu I5« 


Westminster Abbey has been justly said to be 
part of the Constitution, and it is impossible that an 
Englishman can walk through the aisles of that 
majestic building, without being impressed by its 
grandeur, and without a feeling of pride that he 
belongs to a country, which contains so noble a 
temple, and so rich a sepulchre. 

Those walls, where speaking marbles show 
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below: 
Proud names, who once the ruins of empire held , 
In arms who triumph'd, or in arts oxcell'd; 
Chiefs graced with scars, and prodigal of blood ; 
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ; 
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given, 
And Saints, who taught, and led the way to Heaven. 
It is not our present purpose to give any general 
description* of this edifice, but to confine ourselves 
to a notice of the beautiful Choir Screen represented 
in the accompanying print, and which has been 
recently executed under the direction of Mr. Blore, at 
the expense of the Dean and Chapter of the Church. 
The Screen of a Cathedral, dividing the nave and 
choir, as the present one, is a prominent and im- 
portant feature, as, from the main western entrance, 
the eye almost immediately rests upon it. In some 
of our cathedrals, (York, for instance,) the choir 
screen is of most elaborate sculpture, and the good 
taste of the present age, has removed from several of 
our churches the barbarous additions introduced in 
the days of James the First, and of successive 
mouarchs; and has replaced them with ornaments, 
which harmonize with the general character of the 
buildings in which they are placed. 

The late Screen in Westminster Abbey, was ef 
modern date, and was probably erected either by, or 
under the direction of Mr. Keene, Surveyor of the 
Works, about the year 1775; (at which time the 
choir was fitted up much in the state it now appears,) 
and as our readers will recollect, it accorded but little 
with the beauty of the fabric. 

The present Screen is divided into three highly 
ornamented arches, with trefoil heads. 

Tho centre one, which forms the entrance into the 
Choir, is distinguished from the side arches by a 
pediment enclosing rich tracery. The two side arches 
form recesses, containing the monuments of Sir 
Isaac Newton, and James, the first Earl Stanhope. 
Both these monuments were designed by Kent, and 
executed by Rysbrack, and in their design, they pos- 
sess a general uniformity. 

It may be questioned, how far monuments orna- 
mented with sarcophagi, recumbent statues, &c., are 
.«>iited to a Screen like this, but as the architect 
fnund them so placed, he had no alternative but to 
set them off to the best advantage, and this he has 
managed most successfully. Between the arches, and 
at the angles of the Screen, are placed bold and lofty 
turrets, in niches on the fronts and sides of which are 
placed, under canopies, full-length figures of Edward 
the Confessor and his Queen, the founders of the 
Church ; and of Henry the Third and Edward the 
First, and their respective Queens, by whom it was 
rebuilt. A great addition has recently been made to 
the effect of this Screen, by a new organ-case of 
corresponding design, executed in oak by Mr. Francis 
Ruddle of Peterborough, erected also at the expense 
of the Dean and Chapter, from the designs of the 
same architect ; but the limits of our work have pre- 
vented our representing the whole instrument in 
connaKion with the Stone Screen, to which it forms 
a most appropriate appendage. H. M. 

• At an early opportunity, a Supplementary Numbe' will be 
<!evitcd to this subject. 

No. III. 
With the wish to convey any information that seems 
likely to lead to the improvement of the condition 
and comforts of the humbler classes, we return to 
this subject. Two former papers on Loan Funds, 
supplied by an intelligent gentleman, will be fovmd 
in another part of the Saturday Magazine*. We 
again quote his observations. 

Supposing that the advantages of the proposed plan 
were thought real and substantial, a beginning might 
be made with a very trifling sum, as the repayment of the 
loan by weekly instaltr.eiits produces, during the year, a 
very large amount to be circulated as capital. Each pound 
must be repaid in the course of twenty weeks, and the sum 
brought in every week, by way of instalment, may be lent 
out the same day, and produce a new available income. 
So extensive is the pecuniary power of the system, that an 
original sum of £100 would circulate above £500 a year, 
to be diffused among those classes to whom such assistance 
is most valuable. And should only a much smaller sum 
be attainable t, there is no reason that the endeavour 
should not be commenced, as a person devoting even £20 to 
the object, in the circle of a small village or unfrequented 
district, would circulate loans to the amount of £100 a year, 
which, in some places, might be all that is needed. When 
the plan is once begun, its utility appears so evident, that, 
in general, there is no want of adequate subscriptions. 

Information might then be given in the neighbourhood, 
either by printed notices, or in any other way which may 
seem fit, that the industrious poor will receive the aid of 
loans, for approved purposes, on adequate security, by 
application to the Managers of the Loan Fund, at a speci- 
fied time and place. 

On application being made for a loan, the first point 
would be to ascertain diligently the condition of the appli- 
cant, and the object for which the money is wanted. None 
should be allowed to borrow, who are not so circumstanced 
in pecuniary affairs as to render them fit objects of such 
assistance, the funds not being intended to advance the 
condition of those already well off, but to prevent persons 
from falling into extreme distress, and to give a help towards 
the exertion of industry. The same principle is to be held 
in view, whether the money is supplied altogether gratui- 
tously, or whether a small interest is charged : gain for 
themselves, in neither case, being obtained or desired by 
the supporters of the institution. 

Neither should loans be made to those whose object is 
mere/^ to deal or sell again, without their being able to 
prove themselves under particular circumstances of need. 
Disregard to this point would encourage idle traffic, and 
deprive the general trader of his fair profits. 

Nor should any one obtain assistance whose habits are 
marked by idleness, drunkenness, dishonesty, or any other 
notorious faults — for three reasons — first, because this way 
of expending the money would deprive the poor and in- 
dustrious of that which was intended for their special use ; 
secondly, because it would defeat one of the chief objects 
of the fund, viz. the encouragement of good conduct; and, 
thirdly, because the interest of the securities should not be 
overlooked ; and none ought to obtain relief, who very 
probably would become defaulters. 

Strict inquiries should also be made from the applicant, 
as to his means of future weekly repayment, as no borrower 
should obtain a second loan till the whole of the former was 
repaid : fair warning should also be given him against 
borrowing without these means, and the necessity of punc- 
tuality strongly enforced. 

These various points should be strictly looked to ; and 
though individual cases of apparent hardship may occur, 
and cases in which the personal feelings of the managers 
would induce them to relax, yet the general good, and tlie 
stability of the fund, require no small degree of strictness 
and caution. No denial need cause pain or injury, if 

• See Saturday Magazine, Vol. III., pp. 94, 198. 

t M. Fellenberg described to the writer a species of Juve- 
nile Loan Fund of the most pleasing and useful character, whicti 
was carried on by the pupils of his father's school at Hofwyl. 
They subscribed their money till a sufficient sum liad been collected 
to buy a flock of goats and sheep, which they temporarily lent to 
any distressed families, to supply them with the milk of those 
animals, whicii forms a main article of sustenance in that neigh- 
bourhood. This example might serve as an encouragement to the 
young, or to those who have but little means at their command 

J 834.] 



attended by kindness of manner, and a proper explanation 
of the reason of the refusal. 

To facilitate the necessary inquiries respecting the 
borrower and the security, and to arrive at the truth, the 
assistance of the Parochial Clergyman, or sorce other con- 
stant resident intimately acquainted with the neighbour- 
hood, is desirable, or rather indispensable. 

The first and most obvious ground of opposition, on 
proposing such an establishment, arises from a suspicion 
that money lent will not be repaid. Such an opinion some- 
times proceeds from too low an estimate of the character of 
the poor ; sometimes from a knowledge, if not personal 
experience, of losses to which the charitable and humane 
have been subject, from hanng made loans in their private 
capacity without being repaid. That such losses frequently 
occur there is no doubt, but the case is quite altered in a 
fund attended by publicity, strict rules, and all necessary 
precautions. On inquiry, ample eiidence of this will be 
found in different parts of the country, and in neighbour- 
hoods of diversified local character. Should any losses of 
importance occur, they may always be attributable to errors 
of management, avoidable without difficulty. The Derry 
Fund (mentioned before, in a quotation from the Parlia- 
mentary Reports), is a most striking instance, among 
many others, of exact and punctual repayment, continued 
for a long series of years. It is there directly stated, that 
the sum lent, and put in circulation, had amounted to 
£27,300. On this sum the loss, by default of payment, 
has not exceeded £7. \s. Here is positive and authorized 
evidence, quite sufficient for the case. Other establish- 
ments of the kind might be mentioned, where nothing 
whatsoever has been lost ; and though it must be expected 
that accident or misfortune must cause an occasional defal- 
cation on the part of the borrower, yet, with due precau- 
tion as to securities, no losses of any consequence need be 
incurred from the original amount subscribed. Incredibly 
seldom is it requisite to call upon the securities for repay- 
ment ; and unless grossly blinded by personal interest, as 
well as indiflierent to their reputation in a matter of much 
publicity, they will immediately acquiesce in the justice 
and necessity of the demand. If accepted with tolerable 
judgment, they will feel themselves bound, both by principle 
and promise, to adhere strictly to the rules in which they 
voluntarily acquiesce, and will pay the sum due with 
perfect readiness. 

Some have also conceived that a Fund of this kind en- 
courages a pernicious habit of lx)rrowing. 

As to the habit of borrowing, there is no doubt that 
such a habit is injurious in itself, speaking in a general 
way, and without qualification; but that borrowing for the 
purposes here specified is injurious, is by no means ap- 
parent. Every thing depends on the object for which 
people borrow, with their capacity for applying the money 
well ; and the question comes to this, whether the poorer 
classes are to do without capital at all, (the most usual 
ca#e,) — to borrow it on terms exceedingly ruinous— or to 
obtain it for proper objects, by means of their wealthier 

Some have also maintained that the prospect of being 
able to obtain a loan will foster idleness and improvidence, 
but the very contrary is the result, as no one has the 
least prospect of meeting assistance, who does not maintain 
an habitual character for industry. If space admitted, 
strong fxicts and testimonials might be produced on this 
part of the question. 

Others also have asserted that the system gives an 
undue advantage to those who receive loans over those 
who do not, and places the command of money in the 
hands of those who otherwise would be unable to obtain it. 
This is undoubtedly and completely true, but none should 
make it an objection, except tlwse who are ready to main- 
tain and supp'irt the propriety of witholding all aid how- 
ever cautiously applied, an'l all pecuniary assistance from 
the rich to the poor. The great fallacy of those who adopt 
the idea, of its being advantageous that there should be a 
sparing. Instead of an abundant communication of worldly 
goods, from those who have them to those who have them 
not, lies in their begging the question that those who give 
and communioate amply are less likely to do it with care, 
caution, and vigilance, than those who communicate 
sparingly, where-as the very reverse is generally the fact, 
as the very feeling of duty which makes people give, will 
make them examine fiow they give. 

The possibility of an improper use being made of the 
loan, is sometimes another source of objection ; but the 

smallness of the sum to be obtained by any one person, 
and the number of observers interested in a judicious 
management of the finances, will, it is hoped, prevent such 
occurrences. It has also been observed, that the manage- 
rnent of such an extensive concern would -squire too mnch 
time and trouble : but the attention of two persons during 
two hours in the week is sufficient for the direction even of 
a very extensive Fund. 

It may be well to mention a few facilities which attend 
this mode of bettering the condition of the poor. 

Pecuniary contributions are required but once, as after 
the first establishment, the plan reqmres no additional 
Funds for its maintenance. 

There is a very trilling cost for setting up; perhaps thirty 
shillings or two pounds for a book of accounts, and a set 
of tickets to last for several years. 

The money remains uuconsumed, should it please the 
subscribers to apply it at any future time to another 

Extensive assistance and co-operation, though manifestly 
most desirable, are not absolutely requisite, either in 
reference to money or time ; as though in all probability 
there would be an ample and useliil demand for a fund, 
however large, yet a fund, however small, will be of pro- 
portionate utility. 

The plan here described, is not one of those grand and 
captivating schemes, which are daily put forth and rapidly 
forgotten. Many establishments of these humble and 
retired pretensions are at present in operation. The object 
of the writer has been merely to set before those, who are 
willing to make the experiment in their own district, a 
plan which may facilitate their object, and supply practical 
hints for their adoption. Far from interfering with, or 
superseding any other manner of assisting the poor, as by 
Savings' Banks, Benefit Societies, &c. &c., a proper system 
of Loans will be found a powerful auxiliary towards car- 
rying many other useful designs into permanent and 
complete effect. 

Although the plan of a Loan Fund has in general been 
highly successful, yet improvements will naturally sug- 
gest themselves to the reader, together with various adap- 
tations according to local circumstances. Perhaps the 
statements here thrown together may induce some more 
competent persons to turn their minds to the necessity ol' 
assisting the poorer classes, by some such means on a 
more extensive scale. T. 

A Golden Example. — Edward Richards, aged 68, the 
father of six children, the son of a poor man, and the 
youngest of eleven children, has resided in Cirencester 
parish fifty-two years, and during the early part of his life 
was a common labourer. About thirty-five years ago he 
agreed with a farmer to clear out and improve an acre 
of rough qtiarry-land, on condition of having it three years 
rent free, and then give it up to the owner. On this un- 
promising spot, he and his wife expended their surplus 
labour to such advantage, that, during these three years, 
he cleared 10^ He then purchased two acres of then poor 
land, for which he gave 80^ These two acres are now, 
and have long been, in a highly productive state. So oti 
after he entered on the cultivation of this land, he raised, 
in one year, seven quarters of wheat from it, and he hacl 
refused one hundred guineas for It. He has now been lord 
of this little manjr for thirty-two years. By the kind odic^e.-i 
of a worthy medical gentleman, who had attended him when 
unwell, he obtained from Earl Bathurst seventy-five perches 
of poor, waste, unproductive land, subject to be overflowed 
with water, at a quit-rent of 1 Qs. per annum. This spot, 
which the writer of this has seen, he has possessed about 
thirty years, and has brought it to a state of value and 
productiveness that must be scon to be rightly appreciated. 
For the last ten years, this laborious and industrious man 
has rented five or six acres of land, besides the two ])lots 
already referred to ; and during that period has kept two, 
and sometimes three cows, as also sheep, pigs, &c. ; and it 
may not bo uninteresting, in these times, to state, that lie 
has been long a rate-payer, but never a rate-receiver. In 
short, by honest industry, sobriety, and good conduct, he is 
a man of substance, an independent Englishman, respect- 
able and respecte<l : and the writer, with feelings of sincere 
pleasure, remarked that he set a high value on what it 
was never his good fortune to possess, a sound and useful 
education. — Labourers' Friend Society's Maqazine. 

1 09—2 



[Ma c;i 

No. II. The Battle of Assaye ; its Cause, 
AND Consequences. 
We sometimes read in history of great victories 
achieved over large armies, by forces quite insignifi- 
cant in point of numbers and physical strength, when 
compared with the hosts which they have vanquished ; 
and, in all such cases, the moral superiority of the 
conquerors never fails to excite our highest admira- 
tion and respect. Of this kind is the celebrated 
battle of Assaye, which forms the suloject of illustra- 
tration in the first compartment of the border of the 
Wellington Shield, and which it is our task now to 

Amongst the many native powers which ruled in 
the peninsula of Hindoostan at the commencement 
of the present century, one of the most formidable 
was that known by the name of the Mahratta Em- 
pire. This power exhibited the curious anomaly of 
a confederacy of princes, all independent of each 
other, — all rendering a nominal allegiance to one 
common ruler, whom they invested with the title and 
dignities of king, yet whom they debarred from the 
enjoyment of any real power, — and all submitting to 
the executive authority of an hereditary supreme 
magistrate, called the Peishwah. 

The Mahratta tribes were first formed into a nation 
between the years 1660 and 1670 by Sevajee, who 
raised up for himself a powerful monarchy, which he 
transmitted to his decendants after him. These con- 
tinued to maintain the authority of their ancestor, 
under the title of Rajahs of Sattarah, until the 
middle of the last century, when the reigning king 
was persuaded to renounce his kingly power, and 
sanction all the Peishwah's measures, on certain con- 
ditions. These conditions were not kept, and the 
unhappy prince was imprisoned in a dungeon, where 
he soon pined away and died. His descendants suc- 
ceeded regularly to his title and his captivity, while 
the Peishwah as constantly retained the real power of 
the government. In his intercourse with them, 
indeed, he strictly observed every form and ceremo- 

nial of respect ; and, on his accession to office, 
always received the dress of honour from the Rajah, 
who was thus strangely enough at once his sovereign 
and his prisoner. 

Since the first establishment of the Mahratta 
power, it had always been the policy of the English 
in India to maintain a friendly intercourse with the 
supreme head of that nation ; and when the for- 
midable and inveterate enmity of the native princes, 
Hyder Aly and his son Tippoo Saib, threatened to 
destroy the British dominion in India, a new treaty 
of alliance was concluded with the Peishwah. 

Notwithstanding, however, this apparent amit}% 
the Mahrattas carried on a secret correspondence 
with Tippoo, and, after his death, endeavoured to 
excite his family to oppose the arrangements which 
were made for the settlement of the Mysore country. 
The Peishwah himself had in his turn been supplanted 
by Scindiah, a rival prince, and at this time pos- 
sessed merely a nominal authority. The supremacy 
of this chieftain was, however, contested by an 
active competitor, named Holkar, and the result 
was a war between them. The Peishwah was, of 
course, compelled to aid Scindiah ; but when the 
approach of Holkar had somewhat diminished his 
fear of that chief, he' seized the opportunity of pro- 
posing an alliance to the British government, which 
should enable him to regain his lost authority. 
The proposal was accepted, and Scindiah was invited 
to become a party to it ; but before any arrangement 
could be entered into, the hostile armies engaged in 
battle. Holkar was victorious, and the Peishwah 
took refuge in Bombay, leaving his capital in the 
possession of the conqueror, in this state of things, 
it appeared to the British Governors of Madras and 
Bombay, that they ought to take immediate steps to 
bring about the restoration of the Peishwah. A 
detachment of troops was accordingly ordered to 
advance into the Mahratta territory, under the com- 
mand of Major-General Wellesley (now the Duke of 
Wellington), who was thought to be peculiarly quail- 




fied for the service, because of his local knowledge 
»f the country, and his personal influence among its 

The fugitive Peishwah was quickly reinstated at 
Poonah, which Holkar had quitted on the approach 
of the British force. His old protector, Scindiah, 
had in the mean time collected a large army, avow- 
edly for the purpose of opposing Holkar, and aveng- 
ing the late defeat. But the enmity of the ri\als 
soon subsided, and merged in a common liostility to 
the British, in which they were joined by another 
native prince, the Rajah of Berar. Several unsuc- 
cessful attempts were made to effect negotiations 
with the confederates, and their designs becoming at 
length apparent, the Marquis Wellesley , then Governor- 
General of India, instantly concerted vigorous mea- 
sures for their suppression. A campaign was planned 
on a scale of magnitude never before contemplated 
by any European in India ; and the command of one of 
the armies employed was gi\ en to General Wellesley. 

The great diHiculty which Europeans have to 
encounter in Indian warfare, is that arising from 
the predatory plan of operations adopted by the 
native troops, who ctmstantly disappear before the 
advance of a disciplined enemy, and strive to the 
utmost, to avoid being drawn into an open battle. 
Hyder Aly well knew the advantages of this mode, 
and he practised it with success. An English com- 
mander, weary of pursuing him, once wrote him a 
letter, in which he pointed out how disgraceful it 
was for a prince like himself, at the head of a large 
army, to fly before the small force of his opponents. 
"Give me," replied Hyder, "the same sort of troops 
that you command, and your wish for battle shall be 
gratified. You will understand my mode of war in 
time. Shall I risk my cavalry which cost a thou- 
sand rupees each horse, against your cannon-balls 
that cost two pice? No; I will march your troops 
till their legs swell to the size of their bodies. You 
shall not have a blade of grass nor a drop of water. 
I shall hear of you every time your drum beats, but 
you shall not know where I am once a month. I will 
give your army battle, but it must be when I please, 
and not when you desire it." 

General Wellesley was aware of the disposition of 
th.e Indian generals to act upon this policy, and he 
took his measures accordingly. On the 21st of Sep- 
tember, he joined Colonel Stevenson, who was sta- 
tioned at Budnapoor with 801)0 men ; and at this 
time the whole Mahratta army was strongly posted 
about Bokerdun. It consisted of about 38,500 
cavalry, 10,.500 regular infantry, .500 matchlock- men, 
and 500 rocket-men, with 190 pieces of ordnance. 
In addition to this force, Scindiah had an advanced 
party of a few thousand well-trained Mahratta horse, 
dispersed through the Adjuntee hills, which sepa- 
rated him from the British army. 

A plan of operations was immediately arranged, 
and General Wellesley moved off by the eastern road 
round these hills, while Colonel Stevenson marched 
by the western route, so as to leave no way of es- 
cape open for the enemy to pass to the southward. 
When the general reached the ground of encamp- 
ment which he had intended to occupy, on the 23rd, 
he found himself not more than five or six miles 
from the Mahratta army. From certain intelligence, 
he inferred the intention of the enemy to escape, 
and he, therefore, resolved to attack them at once, 
without waiting for Colonel Stevenson. He accord- 
ingly moved forward, and found them encamped 
between the Kaitna and the Juah, two rivers which 
run nearly parallel toward the point of their junc- 
tion. Their line extended along the north bank of 

the Kaitna; the banks of this river are high and 
I rocky, and the only passage practicable for guns 
the enemy had taken care to occupy. Their right 
was composed wholly of cavalry ; and their cannon 
and infantry, which were the particular object of the 
British commander, were on their left, near the for- 
tified village of Assaye. The handful of British troops 
which was now advancing down on this formidable 
array, did not exceed 4500 men, but the general sen- 
, timent was that of their commander, " They cannot 
I escape us." 

Crossing the river beyond the enemy's left, he 
drew up his infantry between the rivers, in two 
lines, and leaving his cavalry as a reserve in a third, 
advanced to attack the flank of his opponents. His 
intention was perceived, and the enemy, changing 
the disposition of his infantry and guns, instantly 
opened a heavy carnionade, the execution of which 
is described as tcrrilile. The ])icquets on the English 
right suffered particularly; tlieir guns were disabled 
and their bullocks killed. The moment was critical, 
and a large body of Mahratta horse seized the 
opportunity to charge the thinned ranks of their 
opponents ; but they were bravely repelled, and the 
order was given f(jr the advance of the British 
cavalry. "The 19th light dragoons," says Captain 
Grant Duff, " who only drew 3 CO swords, received 
the intimation with one loud huzza ! Accompanied 
by the 4th native cavalry, who emulated their con- 
duct throughout this arduous day, the 19th passed 
through the broken but invincible 74th regiment, 
whose very wounded joined in cheering them as they 
went on, cut in and routed the horse, and dashed 
on at the infantry and guns. The British infantry 
pressed forward, the enemy's first line gave way, fell 
back on their second, and the whole were forced into 
the Juah, at the point of the bayonet. As the 
British line advanced, they passed many of the 
enemy, who cither appeared to have submitted, or lay 
apparently dead. These persons rising up, turned 
their guns on the rear of the British line, and after 
the more important points of the victory were secured, 
it was some time before the firing thus occasioned 
could be silenced. The enemy's horse hovered round 
for some time, but when the last body of infantry 
was broken, the battle was completely decided, and 
ninety-eight pieces of cannon remained in the hands 
of the victors." 

Scarcely ever was there a victory gained against 
so many disa(I\ antages ; besides the general disparity 
of numbers, the enemy had disciplined troops in the 
field under European officers, who more than doubled 
the British force ; and they had an overwhelming 
artillery, which was served with perfect skill, and 
dreadful effect. Nor was there ever one more com- 
plete, or more bravely achieved ; stores, ammunition, 
camp-equipage, bullocks and camels, standards and 
cannon, were left upon the field, and abandoned to 
the conquerors. 

The effect of the defeat was evinced in the pro- 
posals which it caused to be made by the enemy. 
One of Scindiah's ministers wrote to request that 
General W^ellesley would send a British officer to his 
master's camp, for the purpose of negotiating terms 
of peace. But they soon resumed their treacherous 
and evasive policy, and not until the combined army 
had, in a great measure, been destroyed, would its 
leaders submit to any reasonable conditions. 

The brilliancy of this victory was justly estimated, 
both in India and at home. The Governor-General 
expressed his high and cordial approl)ation of the 
magnanimity, promptitude, and judgment of Majoi- 
General Wellesley, whose conduct, he rightly observed. 



[March 16, 

united a degree of ability, of prudence, and daimt- 
less spirit, seldom equalled, and never surpassed. 
Honorary colours, with a suitable device, were 
ordered to be presented to the corps of cavalry and 
infantry employed on the occasion ; and the names 
of the brave officers and men who fell at the battle, 
would, it was said, be commemorated, together with 
the circumstances of the action, upon a public 
monument, to be erected at Fort William to the 
memory of those who had fallen in the public 
service during the present campaign. 

General Wellesley, in this memorable campaign, 
received the first fruits of those honours, of which 
he was one day to reap so abundant a harvest. 
The inhabitants of the city of Calcutta presented 
him with a sword ; his own officers with a golden 
vase; in England, the thanks of Parliament were 
voted him, and he was made a Knight Companion of 
the Bath. The people of Seringapatam presented an 
address to him on his return, (for he was Governor 
of that place,) in which they expressed their grati- 
tude to him, in the most pleasing terms. They had 
reposed for five years, they said, under the shadow 
of his protection : they had felt, during his absence 
in the midst of battles and victory, that his care for 
their welfare had been extended to them, as amply 
as if no other object had occupied his mind : they 
were preparing in their several castes, the duties of 
thanksgiving and of sacrifices to the preserving God, 
who had brought him back in safety, and they im- 
plored the God of all castes and of all nations, to 
hear their constant prayer, whenever greater affairs 
should call him from them, for his health, his glory, 
and his happiness. 

They who gird themselves for the business of tlie world, 
should go to it with a sense of the utility, the importance, 
the necessity, and the duty of their exertions. Southey. 

The love of flowers seems a naturally-implanted passion, 
without any alloy or debasing object as a motive : the 
cottage has its pink, its rose, its polyanthus : the villa, its 
geranium, its dahlia, and its clematis : we cherish them in 
youth, we admire them in declining days ; but, perhaps, it 
is the early tlowers of spring that always bring with them 
tlie greatest degree of pleasure ; and our affections seem 
immediately to expand at the sight of tlie first opening 
blossom under the sunny wall, or sheltered bank, liowever 
humble its race may be. In the long and sombre monihs 
of winter, our love of nature, like the buds of vegetation, 
seems closed and torpid; but like them, it unfolds and 
reanimates with the opening year, and we welcome our 
long-lost associates with a cordiality, that no other season 
can excite, as friends in a foreign clime. The violet of 
autumn is greeted with none of the love with which we 
hail the violet of spring; it is uiseasonal)le ; perhaps it 
brings with it rather a thought of melancholy than of joy ; 
we view it with curiosity, not affection ; and thus the late 
is not like the early rose. It is not intrinsic beauty or 
splendour that so charms us, for the fair maids of spring 
cannot compete with the grander matrons of the advanced 
year; they would be unheeded, perhaps lost, in the rosy 
bowers of summer and of autumn ; no, it is our first 
meeting with a long-lost friend, the reviving glow of a 
natural affection, that so warms us at this season : to 
maturity they give pleasure, as a harbinger of the renewal 
of life, a signal of awakening nature, or of a higher pro- 
mise : to youth, they are expanding beings, opening years, 
hilarity and joy ; and the child let loose from the house, 
riots in the flowery mead, and is 

" Monarch of all he surveys." 
There is not a prettier emblem of spring than an infant 
sporting in the sunny field, with its osier basket wreathed 
with butter-cups, orchises, and daisies. With summer 
flowers we seem to live as with our neighbours, in harmony 
and good-will : but spring flowers are cherished as private 
friendships. Journal of a Naturalist. 


When I looked on the desert arid pUxins, which lie between 
Abusheher and the mountains, and saw the ignorant, half- 
naked, swarthy men and women broiling under a burning 
sun, with hardly any food but dates, my bosom swelled 
with pity for their condition, and I felt the dignity of the 
human species degraded by their contented looks. 

" Surely," said I to an Armenian, "these people cannot 
be so foolish as to be happy in this miserable and unin- 
stmcted state. They appear a lively, intelligent race — 
can they be insensible to their comparatively wretched 
condition ? Do they not hear of other countries, have 
they no envy, no desire for improvement ?" The good old 
Armenian smiled, and raid, " No ; they are a very happy 
race of people, and so far from envying the condition of 
otliers, they pity them. But," added he, seeing my sur- 
prise, " 1 will give you an anecdote, which will explain the 
ground of this feeling. 

" Some time since, an Arab woman, an inhabitant of 
Abusheher, went to England with the children of Mr. 
B. She remained in your country four years.. When she 
returned, all gathered round her to gratify their curiosity 
about England. ' What did you find there ? Is it a fine 
country? Are the people rich — are they happy?' She 
answered, ' The country was like a garden ; the people were 
rich, had fine clothes, fine houses, fine horses, fine carriages, 
and were said to be very wise and happy ! Her audience 
were filled with envy of the English, and a gloom spread over 
them, which showed discontent at their own condition. 
They were departing with this sentiment, when the woraari 
happened to say, ' England certainly wants one thing.' 
'\Vhat is that ?' said the Arabs eagerly. 'There is not a 
single date-tree in the whole country !' ' Are you sure ?' 
was the general exclamation. ' Positive,' said the old 
nurse ; ' I looked for nothing else all the time I was there, 
but I looked in vain!' This information produced an 
instantaneous change of feeling among the Arabs ; it was 
pity, not envy, th;it now filled their breasts ; and they went 
away, wondering how men could live in a country where 
there were no date-trees ! " Sketches of Persia. 



" Hitherto ye have asked nothing in my Name. Ask and 
ye shall receive, that your joy may be full." 

Thou to whom all power is given. 
Here on earth, above, in heaven, 
,Iesus, Saviour, mighty Lord, 
Be thy holy name adored ! 
In our hearts all sovereign reign , 
All the world be thy domain ! 
May redeemed man, we pray thee, 
Like the Angelic Host, obey thee. 
. Thou who dost the ravens feed. 
Grant us all our bodies need ; 
Thou in whom wo move and live, 
Daily grace sustaining give ! 
Pardon us, our sins confessing ; 
Keep us from afresh transgressing. 
May we pardon one another, 
As becomes a sinning brother. 
In temptation's dreadful hour. 
Shield us with thy gracious power. 
From Satan's wiles our hearts defend. 
Saviour, Comforter, and Friend ! 
Glory to tliee on earth be given, 
Christ our King the Lord of heaven ! 
Glory to thee, great " First and Last, " 
When this earth, and time are past ! — 

-A. B. D. 

There is no greater argument in the world of our sjjiritual 
weakness, and the falseness of our hearts in matters of 
religion, than the backwardness most men have always, 
and all men sometimes, to say their prayers; so weary of 
their length, so glad when they are done, so ready to find 
an excuse, so apt to lose an opportunity. Yet it is no 
laljour, no trouble, they are thus anxious to avoid, but the 
begging a blessing and receiving it : honouring our Giod, 
and by so doing, honouring ourselves too.^— Jwiehy 





How many and various are the proofs which we 
have of the wisdom and goodness of God, in the 
f'.ifferent ways in which he has provided for the 
welfare and security, not merely of man, but also of 
the several branches of the brute creation ! Amongst 
these, we may justly mention this, — that those living 
creatures, which, either from the number or power 
of their enemies, are more peculiarly exposed to 
danger, are generally, in a due proportion, more 
abundantly supphed with the means, if not of 
resistance, yet of concealment, or escape. In no 
instance, we think, does this remark appear more 
applicable than in the case of the Flying-fish. " All 
animated nature," says Buffon, " seems combined 
against this little creature." Not only does it fall a 
victim to some of the larger inhabitants of the deep, 
but the Tropic-bird and the Albatross are ever on the 
wing to seize it for their prey. Its chief and most 
natural enemy, however, is the fish called the Dorado, 
or as it is erroneously termed by sailors, the Dolphin *. 
And it is against this powerful foe that it seems to be 
especially armed. 



The Dorado is described as being about six feet in 
length, and at once one of the most active and most 
beautiful of the finny tribe. The back is ornamented 
all over, with spots of a bluish green and silver ; 
the tail and fins are of the colour of gold ; the eyes 
are remarkably large and beautiful, and surrounded 
with circles of the most shining golden hue. In 
fact, it is from its appearance that it takes its name 
Dorado, or Golden, and it is said to be so extremely 
brilhant and singularly beautiful whilst living, and in 
active motion, that no painting or other representation, 
much less any description, can give any thing like a 
just idea of it. On the other hand, its strength and 
power of pursuit are represented as amazingly great. 

It is furnished with a full complement of fins, 
and such is the power of the muscles with which 
it is provided, that it can not only cut its way 
through the water with monstrous rapidity, but can 
bound to a considerable height, and to the distance 
of eight or ten yards over the waves. It is moreover 
one of the most voracious of its kind. We may 
then easily imagine what a formi<lable enemy this 
creature -must be tf) any of its own species which it 
may select for its prey. As it is the unhappy fate of 
the Flying-fish to be its favourite food, and to be 
the inhabitant of the same seas, in the tropical regions, 
it is, of course, in constant danger, from the eager 
pursuit of the Dorado. 

But let us here observe, what peculiar means of 
security it has pleased the Creator to bestow upon 
this little animal. As it is but about nine inches 
long, and seldom grows above the size of a herring, 
any attempt at resistance, would, of course, be in 
vain. All its hope of safety must arise from its 

• Jts name amongst naturalists is the Coryphtena hippxiTus, and 
It it different frorr '\ e Dolpliin, Delphinus •piwctEim, to wiiich 
•Siilors give the name of the Porpoise. 

being able to escape from danger. And its first 
prospect of doing so, arises from the vast numbers 
in which they, as well as most of those creatures 
which are the prey of others, are usually found. 
They have also the same power of swimming away 
from their enemy as possessed by other fish of the 
same size as themselves. But in addition to these 
common qualities, they are furnished with two pair 
of fins, which are longer than their whole body, and 
are moved by a set of muscles, which are stronger 
than any other, and with these they are enabled, 
leaving their natural element, to wing their way for a 
very extraordinary distance through the aii, out of 
the reach of their pursuing foe. 

The description given of the Flying Fish, and of 
their pursuit by the Dorado, or Dolphin, by Captain 
Basil Hall, is so interesting, that we are tempted to 
present it to our readers nearly in his own words. 
" No familiarity," says that amusing writer, " with 
the sight, can ever render us indifferent to the 
graceful flight of these most interesting of all the 
finny, or, rather, winged tribe. On the contrary, 
like a bright day, or a smiling countenance, the more 
we see of them, the more we value their presence. 
I have, indeed, hardly ever observed a person so 
dull, that his eye did not glisten as he watched a 
shoal, or, it may be called, a covey of Flying-fish 
rise from the sea, and skim along for several hundred 
yards. There is something in it so peculiar, so 
totally different from every thing else in other parts 
of the world, that our wonder goes on increasing 
every time we see one take its flight; so that we may 
easily excuse the old Scotch wife, who said to her 
son, when he was relating what he had seen abroad; 
' You may hae seen rivers o' milk, and mountains o' 
sugar, but you'll ne'er gar (make) me believe you hae 
seen a fish that could flee!' 

" I have endeavoured to form an estimate as to the 
length of these flights, and find two hundred yards, 
or about an eighth of a mile, set down in my notes 
as about the longest distance, which they perform in 
somewhat more than half a minute. These flights, 
however, vary from that length to a mere skip out of 
the water. Generally speaking, they fly to a con- 
siderable distance in a straight line, in the wind's 
eye, that is, exactly towards the point from which 
the wind blows, and then gradually turn off to 
leeward. But sometimes they merely skim the 
surface, so as to touch only the tops of the waves. 
A notion prevails afloat, but I know not how just it 
may be, that they can fly no longer than whilst their 
wings, or fins, remain wet. That they rise as high 
as twenty feet above the water is certain, from their 
being found in parts of a ship, which are full as 
much as that out of the sea. I remember seeing 
one about nine inches in length, and weighing not 
less, I should suppose, than half a pound, skim into 
the Volage's main-deck port just abreast of the 
gangway. One of the seamen was coming up the 
quarter-deck ladder at the moment, when the fish, 
entering the port, struck the astonished mariner on 
the temple, knocked him off the step, and very nearly 
threw him down at full length. 

" The amiable Humboldt good-naturedly suggests 
that the flights of these fish may be mere gambols, 
and not proofs of their being pursued by their 
enemy, the Dolphin. I wish I could believe so; for 
it were much more agieeable to suppose, that at the 
end of the fine sweep which they take, they fall safely 
on the bosom of the sea. ' « 

" I do not recollect whether that eminent traveller, 
who not only observes many more things than most 
men, but describes them much better, has any where 



[March 15, 1834 

mentioned his having witnessed one of these chases. 
The best I remember, was during the first voyage I 
ever made, through those regions of the sun, the 
tropical seas, and I will therefore describe it. 

" We were stealing along pleasantly enough, under 
the influence of a newly-formed breeze, which, as 
yet, was confined to the upper sails, and every one 
was looking open-mouthed to the eastward, to catch 
a little cool air, or was congratulating his neighbour 
on getting rid of the calm in which we had been so 
long half-roasted, half-suffocated, when about a 
dozen Flying-fish rose out of the water, and 
skimmed away to windward, at the height of ten or 
twelve feet above the surface. Shortly after, we 
discovered two or three Dolphins, ranging past the ship 
in all their beauty. Presently, the ship, in her course, 
put up another shoal of those little creatures, which 
flew in the same direction which the others had taken. 

" A large Dolphin, which had been keeping company 
with us at the depth of two or three fathoms, and as 
■usual, glistening most beautifully in the sun, no 
sooner detected our poor dear little friends taking 
wing, than he turned his head towards them, and 
darting to the surface, leaped from the water with a 
swiftness little short, as it seemed, of a cannon-ball. 
But, although the force with which he shot himself 
into the air, made him gain upon the Flying-fish at 
first, yet the start which they had got, enabled them 
to keep a-hcad of him for a considerable time. 

" The length of the Dolphin's first spring, could not 
be less than ten yards ; and after he fell, we could 
see him gliding Ukc lightning through the water, for 
a moment, when he again rose and shot forward with 
a speed considerably greater than at first, and of 
course, to a still greater distance. In this manner, 
the merciless pursuer seemed to stride along the 
sea with fearful rapidity, whilst his brilliant coat 
sparkled and flashed in the sun quite splendidly. As 
he fell headlong on the water, at the end of each 
huge leap, a series of circles were sent far over the 
still surface, which lay as smooth as a mirror. 

" The group of Flying-fish thus hotly pursued, at 
length dropped into the sea; but we were rejoiced to 
observe, that they merely touched the top of the 
-swell, and scarcely smik into it : at least, they 
instantly set off again in a fresh, and even more 
vigorous flight. It was particularly iuteresting to 

observe, that the direction they now took was quit* 
different from the one in which they had set out ; thus 
implying, that they had detected their fierce enemy, 
who was following them, with giant steps, along the 
waves, and was now rapidly gaining upon them. His 
terrific pace, indeed, was two or three times as switt 
as theirs, — poor little things! 

" The Dolphin was fully as quick-sighted as the 
Flying-fish. For whenever they changed their flight 
in the smallest degree, he lost not the tenth part of 
a second in shaping a new course in pursuit, whilst 
they, in a manner really not unlike that of the 
hare, doubled more than once upon their pursuer. 
But it was soon too plainly to be seen, that the 
strength and confidence of the Flying-fish was fast 
ebbing. Their flights became shorter and shorter, 
and their course more fluttering and uncertain, whilst 
the enormous leaps of the Dolphin, appeared to grow 
only more vigorous at each bound. At last, indeed, 
we could see, or fancied we could see, that tliiji 
skilful sea-sportsman so arranged all his springs, 
that he contrived to fall at the end of eacli, just 
under the very spot, on which the exhausted Flying- 
fish were about to drop ! Sometimes this took place 
at too great a distance for us to see from the deck 
exactly what happened; but on our mounting high 
into the rigging, we could disco\er that many of the 
unfortunate little creatures, one after another, either 
fell right into the Dolphin's jaws, as they lighted on 
the water, or were snapped up instantly afterwards." 
It must be confessed, that it is scarcely possible to 
read this description, interesting as it is, without 
feeling, not only a degree of pain for the little fish, 
but also of resentment against their persevering foe : 
))ut we should recollect, that the Dolphin is here only 
ft)llowing the instinct of its nature, in a manner 
necessary for its very existence. If, conscious of the 
pain it was inflicting, it were, simply for its 'own 
amusement, wantonly to trifle with the peace and 
comfort of the creatures it thus piu-sues to the death 
there might, perhaps, be some ground for our resent- 
ment ; but the fact is, its object is to satisfy tlic appe- 
tite given it by its ))enevolent Creator, and that with 
the very food which seems to have been more espe- 
cially provided for it. And in this there is no more 
cruelty than in our putting such animals to death, as 
are necessary for our support P. I. E. 

M 'f.i iiis \itn t.onAno,) puirsuiNG inr ri.\ iN<i-i ibii. 

LONDON: Published by .1011 N \V1I.L],\JI I'ARKKR, Wtsr SrnAN!) ; an.l scihi l>v all liookse Ur.. 



m no. 



22^??, 1834. 

S Price 
i One Penny. 


Vol. IV. 




[March 22, 

There are three principal Fortresses in the City of 
Naples, known by the names of the Castello Nuovo 
(New Castle,) the Castello dell' Uovo (Castle of the 
Egg,) and the Castello di S. Elmo (Castle of St. 
Elmo). The first two are intended to protect the 
city from attack by sea ; the third completely com- 
mands it from the land-side, and is intended rather 
as an instrument of power in the hands of the 
government to restrain the turbulent populace, than 
as a means of defence against external enemies. 

The Castello dell' Uovo stands on the site of a 
villa which once belonged to the Roman Lucullus, 
and then rested on the main land. An earthquake, 
however, is said to have separated it^ when William 
the First, second king of Naples, built a palace 
there. The present fortress communicates with the 
land by a mole ; the rock on which it is situated 
resembles an egg in shape, and the castle thence 
derives its name. The Castello Nuovo is a fortress 
of great size and strength, adjoining the Mole, and 
completely protecting the harbour. It was once 
the residence of the kings of Naples, and it commu- 
nicates, by a subterranean way, with the royal 
palace. It contains the arsenal, and within its first 
line of fortifications is a triumphal arch, erected in 
honour of Alphonso of Arragon. 

The Castello di S. Elmo, S. Ermo, or S. Eia.'smo, 
(by which various names it is known,) is the most 
remarkable of the three. It stands on a high rock 
to the north-west of the city, which it completely 
commands. The citadel was erected by Charles the 
Fifth, and its lofty walls and the huge fosses exca- 
vated in the rock, contrast strikingly with the 
smiling scenery around. It is seen in the distance 
in our engraving, as it appears from the commence- 
ment of the Mole, rising above the buildings of the 
city. Immediately in front of the view, is the 
Castello Nuovo. The remainder of the scene is 
curious, conveying some idea of the easy and indo- 
lent manner in which the occupations and business 
of life are carried on, in this luxurious and ener- 
vating climate. Our readers will perceive the ex- 
quisite regard to comfort, which is paid by the 
gentleman who is undergoing the operation of 
shaving on the beach. Even the individuals at work 
on the boat, are sitting at their labours. Forsyth, 
in his Travels in Italy, thus describes the appearance 
of the Mole on holidays, which, he says, seems an 
epitome of the town, and exhibits most of its 
humours. " Here stands a Friar preaching to a 
row of lazaroni: there Punch, the representative of 
the nation, holds forth to a crowd. Yonder, another 
orator recounts the miracles performed by a sacred 
wax-work, on which he rubs his agnuses and sells 
them, thus impregnated with grace, for a grain a 
piece. Beyond him, are Quacks in hussar uniform, 
exalting their drugs and brandishing their sabres, as 
if not content with one mode of killing. The next 
professore," (for they are all so styled,) " is a dog of 
knowledge, great in his own little circle of admirers. 
Opposite to him, stand two jocund old men, in the 
centre of an oval group, singing alternately to their 
crazy guitars. Further on, is a motley audience 
seated on planks, and listening to a tragi-comic 
filosofo, who reads, sings, and gesticulates, old Gothic 
tales of Orlando and his Paladins." 

The Castle of St. Elmo was the scene of an inter- 
esting event towards the close of the last century, 
when the continued and shameless encroachments of 
the French Revolutionists had excited the indignation 
of the other powers of Europe, and Lord Nelson's 
splendid victory of the Nile had somewhat- roused 

their fallen spirit. A new coalition was the result ; 
and the winter of 1798-9, was spent in preparations. 
The court of Naples, however, more sanguine and 
less cautious than the other confederates, was unable 
to restrain its impatience ; and as Nelson had repaired 
to that city to refit his fleet, his presence increased 
the confidence of the government. The French were 
attacked in December, and compelled to quit Rome. 
The Neapolitan army, under the command of the 
Austrian General Mack, followed them, but was soon 
defeated and dispersed. Early in January, 1799, 
the French entered Naples, and publicly announced 
that the Neapolitan monarchy was destroyed, and a 
republic established in its stead, which, with that 
fondness for classical names which so distinguished 
their revolutionary aera, they styled the Parthenopean 
Republic. The royal family had previously escaped, 
having been conveyed away by Nelson, at the close 
of the preceding month, to Palermo. 

During his stay at that port. Lord Nelson matured 
a plan for the blockade of Naples, and the seizure of 
the islands in its bay. The execution of this design was 
intrusted by him to his much-loved friend Captain, 
afterwards Sir Thomas, Troubridge, at the particular 
desire of their Sicilian Majesties, who, in the belief 
that they must be safe with so great a hero, had 
extorted a promise from Nelson that he himself 
would not leave them. Eight ships proceeded on 
this service, to carry into effect their admiral's 
instructions ; and, early in April, Troubridge was in 
complete possession of the islands Procida, Ischia, 
and Capri. The invaders soon evacuated Naples, 
and retired to Capua, taking the precaution to leave 
a strong garrison in the castle of St. Elmo. To 
reduce this fortress was the next object; and for this 
purpose. Captain Troubridge landed in June with the 
English and Portuguese marines of the fleet, and 
summoned it to surrender. 

The castle was manned with 800 French troops, 
under the command of General Mejan, a rude repub- 
lican, whom Captain Troubridge summoned to sur- 
render, but his summcms not being obeyed, he 
opened a battery within 700 yards of the fort, and, 
two days afterwards, he erected a second, only 
200 yards from the castle walls, and was making 
every preparation for a nearer approach. In pio- 
portion as he advanced, the confidence of the enemy 
abated ; and when Mejan saw the distance between 
himself and his assailant's gvms getting so fearfully 
small, he laid aside the arrogant insolence which 
he had previously displayed, and made humbk 
appeals to the generous feelings of his English 

The gallant seaman continued his approaches, and 
opened a new battery within 180 yards of the fort. 
A capitulation soon followed, and the castle was then 
given up. Nelson afterwards wrote a very charac- 
teristic letter to his present Majesty, then His Royal 
Highness the Duke of Clarence, in which he thus 
spoke of this affair. " I find. Sir, that General 
Koehler does not approve of such irregular proceed- 
ings as naval officers attacking and defending fortifica- 
tions. We have but one idea, — to get close along-side. 
None but a sailor would have placed a battery only 1 80 
yards from the Castle of St. Elmo. A soldier must 
have gone according to art and the AAAAA/V 
way. My brave Troubridge went straight, for we 
had no time to spare. Your Royal Highness will 
not believe that I mean to lessen the conduct of the 
army, I have the highest respect for them all ; but 
General Koehler should not have written such a 
paragraph in his letter ; it conveyed a jealousy, which 
I dare say is not in his disposition." 





Dwells there some Spirit herel The light, that flows 

From tlie fair harbinger of nature's rest, 
Steals o'er the ocean, ki-ising, as it goes. 

Each little feather'd billow's snowy breast, 
And trembling seems to step, with silver shod. 
Where Holy feet once trod. 

Some Spirit stirs ! Quick wends her passage home 
Yon bending skiff, before the threatening storm; 

Thick -gathering vapours shroud the starry dome. 
And the pale timid moon withdraws her form, 

As if she knew 'twould be a fearful night, 
And dared not meet the sight! 

Wakes there some Spirit here 1 In lawless ire. 
Rude mountain-breakers lash the struggling bark; 

Bursts the wild thunder, streams the liquid fire ; 
And all between is desolately dark ; 

While mmgling cries, of piety and fear. 
Portend deep peril near. 

Saves there no Spirit now? Yes, timely yields 
To some mystenous charm the kindling war ; 

Some pow'r unseen, but felt, the sceptre wields, 
And lulls to peace the elemental jar: 

The viewless Hand that rais'd, witholds the rod. 

That Hand is Thine, my God ! M. K. C. 

The words commonly used to signify play, are these four ; 
relaxation, diversion, amusement, and recreation. The idea 
of relaxation is taken from a bow, which must be unbent 
when it is not wanted, to keep up the spring. Diversion 
signifies a turning aside from the main purpose of a jour- 
ney, to see something that is curious and out of the way. 
Amttsement means an occasional forsaking of the Muses, 
when a student lays aside his books. Recreation is the 
refreshing of the spirits when they are exhausted by labour, 
90 that they may be ready in due time to resume it again. 
From these considerations it follows, that the idle man, 
who has no work, can have no play ; for how can he be 
relaxed who never is bent? how can he turn out of the 
roa/1, who is never in it ? how can he leave the Muses who 
is never with them ? how can play refesh him, who is 
never exhausted with business? Jones of Nayland. 

When we rise fresh and vigorous in the morning, the world 
seems fresh too, and we think we shall never be tired of 
business or pleasure ; but by that time the evening is 
come, we find ourselves heartily so ; we quit all its enjoy- 
ments readily and gladly ; we retire willingly into a little 
cell ; we lie down in darkness, and resign ourselves to the 
arms of sleep, with perfect satisfaction and complacency. 

Apply this to youth and old age, — life and death. 

Bishop Horne. 

The morality of an action depends on the motive from 
which we act. If I fling half-a-crown to a beggar, with 
intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys 
victuals with it, the physical effect is good ; but with respect 
to me the action is very wrong. So religious exercises, if 
not performed with an intention to please God, avail us 
nothing. As our Saviour says of those who perform them 

from other motives, " Verily, they have their reward." 

Da. Johnson. 

Let your love be pure, without passion, for this will wear 
away with age and time ; when love, true, cordial. Christian 

love, will out-last, will out-live, even death itself. Isaac 


It is observable how God s goodness strivas with mans 
refractoriness. Man would sit down at this world — God 
bids him sell it and purchase a better ; just as a father, who 
hath in his hand an apple and a piece of gold under it : 
the child comes, and, with pulling, gets the apple out of 
his father's hand ; his father bids him throw it away, and 
he will give him the gold for it, which the child utterly 
refusing, eats it, and is troubled with worms ; so is the 
carnal and wilful man with the wonn of the grave in this 
world, and the worm of conscience in the next. Herbert. 

Conscience is undoubtedly the grand repository of all 
those pleasures which can afford any solid refreshment to 
the soul : when this is calm and serene, then, properly, a 
man eiijovs all things, and, what is more, himself; for that 
lie must (io, before he can enjoy any thing else. It will not 
drop, but pour in oil ujwn the wounded heart ; it will not 
whisper, hut proclaim a jubilee to the mind. — South. 

on the formation of 

AN heubjbtum, or collection of 

A taste for Natural History, long cultivated among 
the higher and middle ranks of society, has, of late 
years, made considerable progress also among the 
humbler classes. The Spitalfields' weavers used to be 
celebrated for their researches after insects. If not 
scientific entomologists, they were diligent and suc- 
cessful collectors, knew, at least, the English names 
of the insects they met with, and in their excursions 
frequently took specimens of great rarity and esteem. 
They were noted also for the nice and beautiful manner 
in which they preserved their insects ; an operation, 
the successful performance of which the delicate state 
of their hands, so essential to those employed in the 
manufacture of silk-goods, was well calculated to 
ensure. The weavers of Norwich might boast, from 
among their ranks, of those who were scarcely less 
noted for their attainments in Botany, and their 
diligence and success in collecting plants. And 
among the operatives of Manchester are now to be 
found many who have made no inconsiderable ad- 
vances, in both the above departments of Natural 
History. The names of Hobson of Manchester, and 
Weaver of Birmingham, deserve to be recorded for 
posterity with veneration. The latter, from a small 
beginning, has opened, in his own town, a splendid 
museum of general Natural History, which contains, 
besides many other objects of great interest, a most 
beautiful and extensive collection of British insects, 
the result entirely of his own personal industry and 
perseverance. The late Edward Hobson, originally 
(as we are informed,) a porter to a house in Man- 
chester, " with only a common reading and writing 
education, but with the blessing of good natural 
talents, and by the most determined and vigorous 
perseverance at all times, when unoccupied in the 
duties of his station, had become a thoroughly skilful 
botanist, mineralogist, geologist, entomologist, nay, 
almost a general naturalist." This extraordinary 
man published, some years ago, collections of dried 
specimens of British mosses ; a work, which, for its 
accuracy, and the beauty with which it was executed, 
woidd have done honour to a professor. 

The list might easily be swelled by the mention of 
other names of self-taught naturalists in humble life, 
from among the mechanics of Coventry, Dudley, and, 
no doubt, of all our populous towns. 

We hail these events with unfeigned satisfaction 
and delight, convinced as we are of the advantages 
that must accrue, in a moral point of view, both to 
the individuals themselves and to the country at 
large, if, in the place of amusements which are cal- 
culated to brutalize the minds of those who engage 
in them, such rational and innocent pursuits could 
be substituted as have a directly opposite tendency. 

Entertaining such sentiments on the advantages to 
be derived from extending a taste for natural history 
more generally among the mass of the people, we need 
make no apology for presenting our readers with some 
hints on the formation of an Herbarium, or collection 
of dried plants, confining ourselves chiefly to what we 
conceive to be the best and readiest method of pre- 
serving the specimens for that purpose. It was a 
maxim of Linnsus, that an Herbarium is a far better 
help to the student than the best of mere artificial 
representations, such as drawings and engravings of 
plants, and that it is a thing essential to every botanist. 
The use ot such a collection is obvious ; you have 
the plants themselves, — the very original handy works 
of nature before your eyes to consult and examine, 
and to compare with others whose species if may be 




[Mxaca 22, 

Drettra rotundifolia, 
Round-Leaved Sun-Dew. 

CoUthul Pool, July, 1833. 

wished to ascertain ; they 
arc always at hand, and 
ready to refer to, even at 
those seasons of the year, 
the dreary months of win- 
ter, when it is impossible to 
procure the living plants, 
or, at least, to procure 
them in their best array. 
It may be added, too, that 
there is no inconsiderable 
pleasure attending the very 
act of collecting, and the 
subsequent arrangement 
and inspection of the vari- 
ous specimens. None but 
a collector can know the 
satisfaction to be felt by 
the addition to any parti- 
cular genus, or family of 
plants, of the one remain- 
ing species which alone is 
wanting to complete the 
series and make it perfect. 
But how are such deli- 
cate and perishable things 
as flowers, the very em- 
blems of short-lived fading 
beauty, to be preserved, 
so as to retain even a faint 
semblance of their original 
comeliness ? That is the 
question. It is not possi- 
ble to preserve them in all 
their bloom and freshness. 
Dried specimens, deprived 

of their juices, and flat- 
tened by pressure, cannot, 
in the nature of things, 
be equal to living ones. 
Form, texture, and, still 
more, colour, will, una- 
voidably, be more or less 
impaired bythe very means 
employed to efifect their 
partial preservation. But 
if only enough of the cha- 
racters of plants can be 
retained in a dried state, 
to serve at once as a very 
great help to the student, 
and, at the same time, to 
afford a set of agreeable 
objects to the eye, that is 
enough to lead us to the 
attempt, and to justify the 

Let the specimens, then, 
be gathered, if possible, 
in dry weather, and never 
on any account put in 
water, with a view to keep 
them fresh after they are 
gathered and previously 
to their being pressed be- 
tween paper J a practice 
which would tend to in- 
crease the quantity of mois- 
ture in the plants, and, 
consequently, add to the 
difficulty of drying them. 
Then take some leaves of 




paper — say, coarse blotting-paper, or the like — 
the more porous or spongy the better, and heat 
them at the fire, till they become as hot as they 
can well be made without scorching them. Place 
the specimens, having first spread them a little, 
so as to display their several parts to advantage, 
between two of these leaves so heated; lay them 
one tier over another, between boards or other 
flat surfaces, and press them with a moderately 
heavy weight. This process of heating the paper 
and shifting the specimens should be often repeated ; 
twice, or at least once a day, till the juices of the 
plant have evaporated. By this method, the speci- 
mens, if not very robust or fleshy ones, will generally 
be sufficiently dried in the course of a week, or even 
in less time. The advantages of this plan are, not 
only that the plants will be more thoroughly dried, 
and in a shorter time, and, therefore, will be less 
likely to become mouldy or to decay, but, also, that 
they will generally retain their colour, both of the 
flowers and leaves, much more perfectly than they 
would have done if dried by means of a slower 
process, and without the aid of artificial heat. Small 
specimens, and such as are slight in substance, may 
be merely placed between the blank leaves of a 
book, (not a prinierf book,) and kept in the pocket; 
the warmth of the pocket having the same eflFect as 
heating the paper. The great principle, in short, is 
to dry the specimens thoroughly and quickly. And 
hence it is, that such as have been preserved in 
hot climates, are generally found to retain their 
colour and beauty more perfectly, than those pre- 
served in cold and moist ones. 

Amid the infinite varieties of form, colour, tex- 
ture, and substance, exhibited by different plants, 
it is of course to be expected, that some should 

Aspidium lobatum. 
Lobed Polypody. 

Aliesley. .January, 


prove better adapted to undergo the operation 
of drying, than others, and should display after- 
wards a more exact representation of their living 
characters. Ferns, grasses, and more especially 
mosses, dry readily, and with little loss of their 
original beauty. Plants of a succulent and fleshy 
nature, such for example, as stone-crops, or the 
common houseleek, are more difficult of preservation, 
and suiFer more by the operation. The foliage and 
stalks of some species, will almost invariably turn 
black in drying ; and the colour of the flowers will 
often undergo considerable alteration. Yellow co- 
lours appear to be in general the most permanent ; 
blue and purple are more liable to fade ; and white 
is very apt to change to brown. There are, however, 
exceptions to these rules. The entire plant, or at 
least every part of it, flower, seed-vessel, leaves, 
stem, and root, should be preserved if practicable, 
because all and each of these, possess their peculiar 
characters. This direction, however, it is, of course, 
impossible strictly to observe in the case of trees 
and shrubs, and large herbaceous plants. Of such, 
little more than a sprig can well be preserved as a 
specimen for the herbarium. 

When the specimens are thoroughly dried, they 
should be fixed by means of paste or gum, on a 
leaf of stiff white paper, one species only on a 
page, and with the name of the plant, the place 
of growth, and time of gathering written below. 
Or, a still better way of mounting them on the 
paper, is to secure them by means of narrow 
straps of paper, let in through a small slit cut in 
the mounting-sheet, on each side the stem or other 
part of the specimen, and applied in various places 
as occasion requires. The straps are to be pasted 
to the back of the sheet, so ati to bind the plant 



[March 22, 

firmly down to the page, (see No. 1). For plants 
which grow in close tujfts, and bear a thick matted 
foliage, like many of the small alpine species, 
a needle and thread, or silk, may be used on the 
same principle as the paper straps, which in such 
cases cannot well be employed. The ends of the 
thread are to be secured by pasting a small piece 
of paper over them, on the back of the sheet ; (see 
No. 2.) In recommending the use of paste for the 
above purpose, it must be observed, that being a 
farinaceous substance, (that is, made of flour,) it is 
apt to attract various minute insects, which will prey 
upon it, gnaw holes in the paper, and make sad 
havoc of the specimens. In order to prevent these 
ill consequences, let a very small portion of that 
rank poison, corrosive sublimate, be mixed up with the 
paste, previously to its being used. This treatment 
will both effectually defend it against the attacks 
of insects, and also prevent it from ever becoming 
mouldy. Paste so medicated, constitutes a better 
cement for the purpose, than gum or glue. 

A difficulty, perhaps, may occur, in determining 
the size of the paper on which the specimens are 
to be finally fixed. It is certainly desirable, for 
neatness and uniformity's sake, that all the pages 
should be of the same size ; but then, while a large 
paper will be full small enough for some specimens, 
it will be more than sufficient for minute plants, and 
those of humble growth ; and botanists in general, 
hold it to be an objectionable practice, to mount dif- 
ferent plants, that is, plants of more than one species, 
on the same page. Now here, as in all like cases, 
there will probably be a variety of opinions. On 
such points, much must be left to the taste and 
judgment of the collector himself. In order, how- 
ever, to fix on some dimensions for the paper, it may 
be stated, that a moderate folio of about fifteen 
inches by ten, may, perhaps, on the whole be as 
eligible a size as any. The taller specimens may be 
divided in two, and the two halves placed side by 
side, in order to bring them within compass of the 
page, (see No. 3) ; or, with a view to the same end, 
the stems of some plants, (as for example, of the 
grasses especially and plants of that nature,) may 
be crankled thus, (see No. 3 and 4,) a method, which 
will practically reduce their height, without in reality 
depriving them of their natural dimensions. Or, 
again, they may be placed diagonally, that is, from 
corner to corner of the page. The larger ferns, 
likewise, may most advantageously be bent towards 
the top of the frond, and the upper portion turned 
back in an oblique direction, (see No. 5;) this will 
bring a tall specimen within the area of the paper, 
and, also, have the additional recommendation of 
exhibiting the fructification of the fern, which, it is 
well known, grows on the back of the frond. Con- 
trivances in short, of this kind, will readily present 
themselves to an ingenious mind ; and it is not 
necessary to enter into more minute details. 

There are little difficulties and inconveniences, be 
it remembered, to be encountered, more or less, in 
most things, even in our pleasures and recreations, 
and if they cannot be wholly avoided, they may 
generally be met and remedied in part. We believe 
that the very act of surmounting such obstacles, adds 
a relish to the pursuits in which they occur. After 
the specimens are mounted, they should be arranged 
either in systematic or in natural order, and deposited 
in pasteboard cases, made like a portfolio, or the 
binding of a book ; and, above all, care must be 
taken to preserve them from damp, which, next to 
insects, is the worst enemy to the collector, and the 
most deatructive of the fruits of his labours. 

I The student, who by his own personal industry 
and research has thus formed a botanical collection 

; will have gained, in consequence, a far more intimate 
knowledge of plants, their nature, growth, habits, 
and characters, than could readily be acquired by any 
other means. A fund of amusement wiU be derived 
from an inspection, from time to time, of the speci- 
mens themselves, which, associated as they will ever 
be with the wild scenery of their native woods and 
mountains, will serve as interesting and agreeable 
memorandums, to recall to mind many a pleasurable 
excursion in the course of which they may have been 
collected. He will, also, have the further advantage 
(as already hinted,) of enjoying, as it were, a conti- 
nual spring, and being surrounded by the gifts of 
Flora, at all seasons throughout the whole circle of 
the year. 

Here Spring perpetual leads the laughing hours, 
And Winter wears a wreath of Summer flowers. 



Thk whole human race may be considered as one great 
family, under the care, protection, and discipline of their 
Heavenly Father ; and the most important duty which he 
requires of them is that they love one another. He gra- 
ciously founds their love to himself on this basis, for he even 
rejects the love of those who do not love their brother also. 

It is a wonderful and benevolent part of the system of 
Providence, that his commandments produce our greatest 
earthly blessings; and our perfect obedience to his laws 
brings its immediate reward, in conferring upon us some 
visible benefit ; as, on the contrary, every outrage on his 
commands has its attendant judgment. 

In no case are the blessings annexed to well-doing so 
sensibly felt as in the mutual kind offices of brotherly love. 
From the sweet affections and good will of society, most of 
our temporal comforts spring ; and when we obey the com- 
mand of loving and serving our fellow-creatures, the benefit 
is reflective , we are loved and served in return ; " therefore, 
my beloved brethren, let us love one another ; for he tliat 
loveth his brother, hath fulfilled the law." If the cultiva 
tion of these benevolent feelings is so important a duty, and 
so great a blessing in extended society, where our inter- 
course is only occasional, of what still greater importance is 
it in the near and daily concerns of domestic life ! 

All persons, in all ages, have been deeply impressed with 
the value of family affection. The wise instructions of 
Solomon abound with injunctions on the subject ; and David 
pronounces, " How good and joyful a thing it is for brethren 
to dwell together in unity ! It is like the precious ointment 
upon the head, which ran down unto the beard, even unto 
Aaron's beard, and went down to the skirts of his clothing. 
Like as the dew of Hermon, which fell upon the hill of 
Zion ; for there the Lord promised his blessing and life for 
evermore." This precious balm to every earthly woe, 
spreads itself to every department in domestic life, like 
" the refreshing dew of Hermon, which fell upon the hill 
of Zion ;" it nourishes and gladdens every benevolent 
heart, it softens the temper, it doubles every pleasure, it 
lessens every care ; without it human beings become savage, 
selfish, and morose ; they lose the blessing which God has 
promised to it m this life, and that life for evermore, which 
is a heaven of love and benevolence. Mrs. King. 

Now you say, alas ! Christianity is hard : I grant it ; bat 
gainful and happy. I contemn the difficulty, when I re- 
spect the advantage. The greatest labours that have 
answerable requitals, are less than the least that have no 
regard. Believe me, when I look to the reward, I would 
not have the work easier. It is a good Master whom we 
serve, who not only pays, but gives ; not after the propor- 
tion of our earnings, but of his own mercy. Bishop Hall. 

Death finds us raid our play-things, snatches us 
As a cross nurse might do a wayward child. 
From all our toys and baubles. His rough cal". 
Unlooses all our favourite ties on earth, 
And well if they are such as may be answer d 
In yonder world, where all is judged of truly. 

Sir Walter Scott. 




^B closely to the advantages of these valuable institu- 
tions. Here is afforded a secure depository for the 
hard-earned savings of industry and toil, which have 
been too often lost, either by misplaced confidence in 
individuals, or by idle, perhaps, too frequently, mis- 
chievous, gratifications. And this evil, in a great 
measure, arises from the want of ready and satisfac- 
tory means of laying by even the smallest sum of 
money as it could be spared. There are few, if any, 
of the labouring classes, however low the wages of 
their particular calling may be, who have not, at 
some time or other of their lives, a trifle more than 
is called for by their unavoidable necessities; and 
this surplus is too often expended in unnecessary 
indulgences, instead of being husbanded for future 
need: how much we all, on various occasions in our 
lives, are in want of more than our immediate means 
afford, it has fallen to the lot of but few not to know 
and feel. 

The greatest advantages of Savings' Banks, even 
in a mere pecuniary point of view, are scarcely 
known; as there are not many who give much consi- 
deration to the dry detail of figures ; but it will be 
found, that even the trifling sum of one shilling, 
deposited weekly in a bank for savings, will, at the 
expiration of thirty-two years, have increased to the 
snm of 149/. 12s. 5rf., of which no less than 66/. 2s. 5rf. 
will be the accumiilation of Interest; which is little 
short of the principal from time to time deposited. 

But this pecuniary advantage, however considerable, 
is not the greatest recommendation of these insti- 
tutions. Their moral advantages are yet more 
important. There is a feeling of honest independence, 
arising from the consciousness of having secured the 
means of self-assistance, and of having escaped the 
degradation of receiving casual bounty, or parochial 
aid. There is a self-satisfaction, in feeling that we 
have possessed suflicient strength of mind and good 
principle to have endured the privation of indulgences, 
nay, perhaps, of actual comforts, for the sake of 
future good ; and these feelings, while they offer an 
ample reward for any temporary mortifications that 
may have been endured, tend also to improve our 
moral habits, and to exalt us in the scale of rational 

Another, and not the least gratifying part of these 
institutions is, the mixture of good feelings which 
they necessarily create between the different Classes 
of Society. Banks for Savings, from the insufficiency 
of their means in the earlier years of their establish- 
ment, must necessarily lean upon the contributions 
of the richer portion of Society for their maintenance ; 
and the liberal hand with which this aid has been 
universally granted, adds a fresh and imperishable 
link to the bonds of Society. 

The importance of this subject has always been 
deeply impressed upon the mind of the writer of 
these remarks. But his attention has lately been 
more especially drawn to the subject, by a Summary 
of the Deposit Accounts, in the St. Mary-le-bone 
Bank for Savings, which has fallen into his hands. 
And it affords him the highest gratification, to find 
by the rapid increase of this Bank, (which, although 
not yet of four years standing, has deposits amount- 
ing to upwards of .51,000/., already lodged in the 
Bauk of England,) that the advantages derived from 
these instituti(ms, are so duly appreciated, and so 
eagerly sought by that Class of Society, for whom 
they were intended ; as is manifested by the following 
extracts from tliis account. 



There were, on the 20th of last November, 

Male and Female Servants 1037 

Mechanics and Artizans 414 

Children 40(, 

Trust Accounts, principally for Children 597 

Needlewomen, Snopwomen, &c 293 

Small dealers ]52 

Labourers and Journeymen 172 

Teachers gg 

Shopmen 135 

Various minor Classes 205 

Making a total of 3471 

Deposit accounts then open in the Savings' Bank of 
the Parish of Marylebone, alone. 


'Twas on the morn when April doth appear, 
And wets the primrose with its maiden tear ; 
'Twas on the morn when laugliing Folly rules, 
And calls her sons around, and dubs tliem Fools ; 
Bids them be bold, some untried path explore, 
A>nd do such deeds as Fools ne'er did before. 

The following brief notice, extracted (chiefly) from 
Brand's interesting work on Popular Antiquities, may 
be deemed acceptable by our readers at the present 
period of the year. Like many a custom derived 
from remote antiquity, the fooleries of the first of 
April have been fancifully traced up to various 
origins, most of which, by their plausibility, lav 
great claim to our belief ; the only difficulty consistis 
in deciding between their respective merits. It will 
be well if any reason can be given for the existence 
of so absurd a custom. Poor Robin, in his Almanac 
for 1760, raises a most rational doubt, as to whether 
the simpleton who is sent on a sleeveless errand on 
this day, is a greater fool than he who sends him ; — 

• 'Tis a thing to be disputed. 

Which is the greatest Fool reputed, 

The man that innocently went, 

Or he that him design'dly sent. 

The French have their All Fools' Day, and call the 
person imposed upon An April Fish, (Poisson d'AvrilJ 
whom we term an April Fool. Bellinger, in his Etymo- 
logy of French Proverbs, endeavours at the following 
explanation of tliis custom. The word " Poisson," he coiv 
tends, is coiTupted through the ignorance of the people 
from " Passion ;" and length of time has almost totally 
defaced the original intention, which was as follows : that, 
as the Passion of our Saviour took place about this time of 
the year, and as the Jews sent Christ backwards and 
forwards to mock and torment him, i.e. from Annas to 
Caiaphas, from Caiaphas to Pilate, fi-om Pilate to Herod, 
and from Herod back again to Pilate ; this ridiculous, or 
rather impious, custom took its rise from thence, by which 
we send about, from one place to another, such persons as 
we think proper objects of our ridicufe. Such is Bellinger's 

Something like this (says the Gentleman's Magazine for 
July, 1783,) which we call making April Fools, is practised 
also abroad in Catholic countries on Innocents' Day, on 
which occasion people run through all the rooms, making 
a pretended search in and under the beds, in memory, I 
believe, of the search made by Herod for the distovery and 
destruction of the Child Jesus, and his having been imposed 
upon, and deceived by the Wise Men,' who, contrary to his 
orders and expectation, " returned to their own country 
another way." 

Maurice, in his Indian Antiquities, speaking of " the 
first of April, or the ancient Feast of the Vernal Equinox, 
equally observed in India and Britain," tells us, " tlie first 
of April was anciently observed in Britain as a high and 
general festival ;" adding, some few lines further, " of 
those traits of the jocundity of our fathers, preserved in 
Britain, none of the least remarkable, or ludicrous, is that 
relic of its pristine pleasantry, the general practice of 
making April Fools, as it is called, on the first day of that 
month ; but this Colonel Pearce (Asiatic Researches 
Vol. II., p. 3.'j.4,) proves to have been an immemorial 
custom among the Hindoos, at a celebrated festival holden 
about the same period in India, wliich is called the Huli 
Festival. ' During the Huli,' says Colonel Pearce, • when 
mirth and festivity reign among the Hindoos of every class. 



[March 22, 1834. 

one subject of diversion is to send people on errands and 
expeditions that are to end in disappointment, and raise a 
laugh at the expense of the person sent." " 

The Public Advertiser for April 13, 1789, gives the 
following humorous Jewish origin of the custom of 
making Fools on the first of April. 

" Tliis is said to have begun from the mistake of Noah 
in sending the dove out of the ark before the water had 
abated, on the first day of the month among the Hebrews, 
wliicn answers to our first of April ; and to perpetuate the 
memory of this deliverance, it was thouglit proper, whoever 
forgot so remarkable a circumstance, to punish them by 
sending tliem upon some sleeveless errand, similar to tlmt 
ineffectual message upon which the bird was sent by the 

Another paper for the 1st of April, 1792, says, 

" No antiquary has even tried to explain the custom of 
making April Fools. The writer recollects that he has 
met with a conjecture somewhere, that April Day is cele- 
brated as part of the festivity of New Year's Day. That 
(lav used to be kept on the 2.5th of March. All antiquaries 
know that an octave, or eight days, usually completed the 
festivals of our forefather.s, If so, April Day, making the 
octave's close, may be supposed to be employed in fool- 
making, all other sports having been exhausted in the 
foregoing seven days." 

The " conjecture"' just alluded to, was probably the 
following from the pen of Dr. Pegg, the venerable 
Rector of Whittington, in Derbyshire. It is to be 
found in the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1766. 

It is a matter of some difficulty to account for the ex- 
pression, " An April Fool," and the strange custom so 
universally prevalent throughout this kingdom, of people 
making fools of one another, on the first of April, by try- 
ing to impose upon each other, and sending one another, 
ujjon that day, upon frivolous, ridiculous, and absurd 
errands. I have found no traces, either of the name or of 
tlie custom, in other counti-ies, insomuch that it appears to 
me to be an indigenal custom of our own. Now, to 
account for it ; the name undoubtedly arose from the 
custom, and this I think arose from hence: our year for- 
merly began, as to some purposes, and in some respects, 
on the 25th of March, which was supposed to be the 
Incarnation of our Lord ; and it is certain that the com- 
mencement of the new year, at whatever time that was 
supposed to be, was always esteemed ^n high Festival, 
and that both amongst the ancient Romans and with us. 
Now great Festivals were usually attended with an Octave, 
that is, they were wont to continue eight days, whereof 
the first and last were the principal ; and you will find the 
1st of April, is the Octave of the 25th of March, and the 
close, or ending, consequently, of that Feast, which was 
both the Festival of the Annunciation and of the New 
Year. From hence as I take it, it became a day of extra- 
ordinary mirth and festivity, especially amongst the lower 
sorts, who are apt to pervert and make a bad use of insti- 
tutions which at first might be very laudable in themselves. 

We will close our extracts with a further suggestion 
from the indefatigable antiquary, to whom we are 
indebted for the above notices, and leave our readers 
to select for themselves the origin, which they may 
deem the most plausible. 

Calling this " All Fools' Day, " seems to denote it to be 
a different day from the Feast of Fools, which was held on 
the 1st of January: and I am inclined to think, the word 
" All," here is a corruption of our northern word " auld, " 
for old ; because I find in the ancient Romish Calendar, 
(which 1 have so often cited,) mention made of a "Feast 
of Old Fools." It must be granted that this Feast stands 
there on the 1st of another month, November: but then 
it mentions at the same time, that it i's by a removal ; 
" The Feast of Old Fools Is removed to this day." Such 
removals, indeed, in the very crowded Romish Calendars, 
were often obliged to be made. 

There is nothing hardly that will bear a clearer demon- 
stration, than that the primitive Christians, by way of 
conciliating the Pagans to a better worship, humoured 
their prejudices by yielding to a conformity of names, and 
even of customs, where they did not essentially interfere 
with the fundamentals of the Gospel doctrine. This was 
done in order to quiet their possession, and to secure their 

tenure ; an admirable expedient, and extremely fit, in those 
barbarous times, to prevent the people from returning to 
their old religion. Among these, in imitation of the Ro- 
man Saturnalia, was the Festum Fatuorum, (Feast of 
Fools,) when part of the jollity of the season, was a bur- 
lesque election of a mock Pope, mock Cardinals*, &c. 
attended with a thousand ridiculous and indecent cere- 
monies, gambols, and antics, all allusively to the exploded 
pretensions of the Druids, whom these sports were calcu- 
lated to expose to scorn and derision. 

This Feast of Fools had its designed effect, and con 
tributed, perhaps, more to the extermination of those 
heathens, than all the collateral aids of fire and sword. 
The continuance of customs, (especially droll ones, which 
suit the gross taste of the multitude,) after the cause of 
them has ceased, is a groat but no uncommon absurdity. 

One epithet of Old Fools does not ill accord with the 
pictures of Druids transmitted to us. The united appear- 
ance of age, sanctity, and wisdom, which these ancient 
priests assumed, doubtless contributed in no small degree 
to the deception of the people. Tlie Christian teachers, 
in their labours to undeceive the fettered multitudes, would 
probably spare no pains to pull off the mask from these 
venerable hypocrites, and point out to their converts, that 
age was not always synonymous with wisdom ; that youth 
was not the peculiar period of folly : but that together 
with young ones, there were also old (auld) Fools. 

N. P. S. 
• Andrew, says the author of the Essay to retrieve the ancient 
Celtic, whom he is here quoting, signifies a head Druid, or 
Diciiie. Hence it was that, when the Christians, by way of exploding 
the Druids, turned them into ridicule, in tlieir Feast, or Holidays of 
Fools, one of the bufToon personages was a " Merry Andrew." 
Mr. Pennant curiously remarks in his Zoology, — " It is very sin- 
gular, that most nations give the name of their favourite dish to the 
facetious attendant upon every mountebank (Merry Andrew) ; thus 
the Dutch call him Pickled Herring ; tire Italians, Macaroni ; 
the French, Jean Potage ; the Germans, Hans Wurst, i.e. Jack 
Sausage ,■ and we dignify liim with the title of Jack Pudding," 

We had an amusing account of an adventure which had 
occurred at Kazeroon, to two gentlemen of the Mission, 
who had been sent some months before to Shiraz. One of 
these, a relation of the Elchee, (ambassador,) was particu- 
larly averse to what he deemed unnecessary fatigue of 
body. But he and his companion had their curiosity so 
much raised, by the accounts they received of two strange 
creatures that were said to be in a house at the distance of 
fifteen miles, that, in spite of the severity of the weather, 
(for it was winter,) and the difficulties of the road, they 
determined to go and see them. 

In answer to their inquiries, one man said " these crea- 
tures are very like birds, for they have feathers and two 
legs, but then their head is bare, and has a fleshy look, and 
one of them has a long beard on its breast." But the chief 
point on which they dwelt, was the singularity of their 
voice, which was altogether unlike that of any other bird 1 
they had ever heard of or seen. An old man, who had I 
gone from Kazeroon to see them, declared it was a gut- 
tural sound very like Arabic, but confessed that, though he 
had listened with great attention, he had not been able to 
make out one word they uttered. 

When the party arrived, very fatigued, at the end of 
their journey, the inhabitants of the small village where 
the objects of curiosity were kept came out to meet them. 
Being conducted to the house where the birds were shut 
up, the door was opened, and out marclied a turkey-cock 
and hen ! the former, rejoicing in his release from confine- 
ment, immediately commenced his Arabic. The Persians 
who came from Kazeroon were lost in astonishment, while 
our two friends looked at each other with that expression 
of countenance which indicates a doubt, between an incli- 
nation to laugh or be angry ; the former feeling, however, 
prevailed. Their merriment surprised the Persians, who, 
on being informed of its cause, seemed disappointed to 
hear that the birds, which appeared so strange to them, 
were very common, "ooth in India and England. 

From the account given by the possessor of the turkeys, 
it appeared that they had been saved from the wreck of a 
vessel in the Gulf, and had gradually come to the part of 
tlie interior where they then were. Sketches of Persia. 




Sold bT all Baokielleri aud Nawtvenden in the Kingdom. 



m. 111. 



29™, 1834. 

S Puicu 
i OffE Penny, 



Vol. IV. Ill 



[March 29, 

No. V. Statue of King William the Third, 

IN St. James's Square. 
The engraving on the preceding page represents the 
large equestrian statue in bronze, of King William 
the Tliird, which stands in the centre of St. James's 
Square, and forms one of the noblest ornaments of 
the metropolis. It was cast by Mr. Bacon, son of 
the celebrated John Bacon the sculptor, (a son 
worthy of such a sire,) and erected in the year 1808. 

This statue was executed, pursuant to the will of 
Samuel Travers Esq., who had lived in the reign of 
King William, and who, in his will, dated July 6th, 
1 72 1, calls him, " his master King William the Third. " 
After bequeathing considerable sums to various 
charitable purposes, he there directs, that an eques- 
trian statue of his sovereign, in bronze, should be 
erected, either in St. James's Square, or in the 
Poultry. It being found next to impossible, in these ; 
later (lays, to fix it in the Poultry, it was, of course, 
assigned to its present position. It is curious, indeed, 
to contemplate the change that has taken place in 
the aspect of London, since the date of that will. 
" I have," says an ingenious modern author, " met 
with several old persons in my younger days, who 
remembered that there was but a single house, a 
cake-house, between the Mews-gate at Charing-cross, 
and St. James's Palace-gate, where now stand the 
stately piles of St. James's Square, formerly a place for 
cudgel-playing, &c.. Pall Mall, and other fine streets." 

In 1725, the year after the death of Mr. Travers, 
an Act of Parliament was passed, for adorning St. 
James's Square : but the will was disputed by sur- 
viving relations, and thrown into chancery, and was 
not confirmed for many years. It also appears, 
that the bequest had been forgotten, until the money 
was found in the list of unclaimed dividends. In 
consequence of all this delay, the commission was 
reserved for the employment of a modern artist. 

The statue which is admirably executed, and 
possesses great expression, is of the same general 
dimensions as that of King Charles at Charing-cross. 
The bronze is about half an inch in thickness, the 
legs of the horse excepted, which are solid. It was, 
at the time of its being cast, supposed by some persons, 
to have been one of the works left unfinished by the j 
elder Bacon, who at his death, directed that his | 
second son, John Bacon, should continue in the pro- 
fession of sculpture, and finish the works which he 
had left incomplete. But it is right to add, that 
the whole of the beautiful statue here described, was 
performed since the death of the father, by a separate 
contract, entered into with the present Mr. Bacon. 

For those of our readers who would like to know 
more of the person represented by the statue, and, 
in the words of Addison, to be informed " whether 
he was a dark or a fair man, of a mild or choleric 
disposition, with other particulars of the like nature," 
we add the following short, but spirited sketch of 
the person and character of William. It is extracted 
from a history of Great Britain, comprising the 
events from the Revolution in 1688 to the accession 
of George the First, and WTitten originally in Latin 
by Alexander Cunningham, minister from the last- 
mentioned sovereign to the republic of Vienna. 
After describing the circumstances attending the 
king's death at Kensington, which was occasioned by 
a fever, brought on in consequence of breaking his 
collar-bone by a fall from his horse when hunting, 
the author continues : — 

King William was of a middle stature, and had chesnut- 
coloured hair ; he had a piercing eye, a hooked nose, round 
shoulders, and slender legs ; his appearance was not un- 

comely, whether standing or sitting, but he was most 
graceful on horseback. In his common conversation he 
was courteous and affable ; in .matters of importance grave 
and reserved, and on no occasion did he sink below his 
dignity. He was sometimes apt to be choleric, but the heat 
of bis temper vented itself among certain of his household 
and physicians. He was so mild and merciful, that he 
would have pardoned his most inveterate enemies, and even 
those who had conspired against liis own life, if the Parlia- 
ment had not prevailed with him to the contrary. In 
various kinds of eloquence no man was more acute, senten- 
tious, or polite. In doubtful or dangerous cases, he dis- 
played wonderful quickness, alacrity, and singular benevo- 
lence, and not less address to gain the favour of other 
princes, and to endear himself to God and man. Such was 
his benignity, that he seemed neither in his private capa- 
city desirous of nches, nor in his public, desirous of a 
crown to gratify his ambition, but to qualify himself the 
better to become an instrument of doing good. 

A correspondent in the Gentleman's Magazine of 
1806, evidently a great admirer of this monarch, 
expresses his regret, that on walking through St. 
James's Square, he found on the east and west sides 
of the pedestal, Gulielmus III., and no more; and 
then suggests the insertion of a Latin inscripticm, by 
Akenside, which describes his character, and states 
the reasons Britons have to honour his memory. 


A labourer, at Hasketon, in the county of Suffolk, occu- 
pied four enclosures, containing fourteen acres of pasture- 
land, at a rent of £13 a year, upon which he kept two 
cows. He died in 1779, and these two cows, with a very 
little furniture and clothing, were all the property that 
devolved, upon his death, to his widow and fourteen children, 
the eldest being a girl, under fourteen years of age. The 
parish is within the district of one of the Incorporated 
Houses of Industry. Upon being made acquainted with the 
situation of the family, the directors immediately agreed 
to relieve the widow, by taking seven of her youngest 
children into the house. This was proposed to her, but 
with great agitation of mind, she refused to part with any 
of her children : she said, she would rather die in working 
for tlieir maintenance, or go herself with all of them into 
the house, and work for them there, than either part with 
them all, or suffer any partiality to be shown to them. 
She then declared, that if her landlord would continue her 
in the farm, as she called it, she would undertake to 
maintain and bring up all her fourteen children, without 
parochial assistance. She persisted in her resolution; and 
being a strong woman, about forty-five years old, her land- 
lord told her she should continue his tenant, and hold it. 
the first year, rent-free. This she accepted with much 
thankfulness, and assured him that she should manage 
her family without any other assistance. 

At the same time, though without her knowledge, Mr. 
Way, the landlord, directed his steward not to call upon 
her at all for his rent, conceiving it would be a great thing 
if she could support so large a family, even with that 
advantaji'e. The result, however, was, that with the benefit 
of her two cows, and of the land, she exerted herself so as 
to bring up all her children, twelve of whom she placed 
out in service; continuing to pay her rent regularly, of her 
own accord, every year after the first. She carried part of 
the milk of her two cows, together with the cream and 
butter, every day to sell, at Woodbridge, a market-town, 
two miles off; and brought back bread and other neces 
saries, with which, and with her skim milk, butter-milk, 
&c., she supported her family. The eldest girl took care 
of the rest, while the mother was gcme to Woodbridge, and 
by degrees, as they grew up, the children went into the 
service of the neighbouring farmers. 

She came at length and informed her landlord, that all 
her children, except the two youngest, were able to get 
their own living, and that she had taken to the employment 
of a nurse, which was a loss laborious situation, and at 
the same time, would enable her to provide for the two 
remaining children, who, indeed, could now almost main 
tain themselves. She, therefore, gave up the land, ex- 
pressing great gratitude for the enjoyment of it, which had 
afforded her the means of supporting her family under a 
calamity, which must otherwise have driven both her and 
■her children into a workhouse. C 




We hear much said of the exorbitant wealth of 
churchmen of former times; while the beneficial 
purposes to which that wealth was frequently applied 
are passed over in silence. The subject of this 
memoir is a noble instance of liberality and muni- 
ficence. We do not propose to enter at any length 
into the private and personal history of William of 
Wykehara, although it is by no means destitute of 
interest. He was born of humble parents, at 
Wykeham, in Hampshire, about the year 1324, in 
the reign of Edward the First. He received his 
education through the kindness of Nicholas Uvedale, 
a neighbouring landholder ; and in his twenty-second 
or twenty-third yceir, was received into the service of 
Edward the Third, at first, for the purpose of super- 
intending the buildings then going on at Windsor 
Castle. Such, however, were the prudence, assiduity, 
and intelligence displayed by Wykeham, that he 
gradually advanced in the favour and confidence of 
the king, until, after having passed through some 
inferior employments, he was made, in the year 1366, 
in the forty-second year of his age. Bishop of Win- 
chester, and Lord High Chancellor of England. 

The latter office, however, Wykeham did not long 
retain. Soon after his appointment to his bishopric, 
he retired to the charge and superintendence of his 
diocese. And, although, in the troubles and disturb- 
ances, which occurred in the latter days of Edward 
the Third, in the reign of Richard the Second, and 
the early part of the reign of Henry the Fourth, 
Wykeliam was often called upor. to take a share in 
public affairs, and never undertook them without 
credit to himself and advantage to the nation, yet 
he rather wished to devote himself to the duties of 
his episcopal office, and to the execution of the 
great design, which he was anxiously revolving in his 

This design was the creation of his two Colleges, of 
Winchester, and New College Oxford. 

At an earlier period, the liberality of pious men 
had vented itself in the foundation and endowment 
of monasteries. These institutions, although not 
without their use in the dark and rude ages when 
they arose, were less suited to the advancing spirit of 
the times, and had become liable to gross abuses and 
corruptions. Learning, at the time of which we are 
now speaking, was beginning to revive; and the 
great demand was for institutions, not to form 
recluses and hermits, but men who should be qualified 
to take an useful part in life, and, more particularly, 
to fill, in an adequate manner, the office of secular 

This was the want which Wykeham designed to 
supply; a design, which he prosecuted with unwearied 
diligence and boundless liberality. For this purpose 
he founded his two Colleges. Tlie first, that at 
Winchester, beside a Warden and ten Fellows, was 
endowed for the education of seventy poor scholars, 
who should be instructed in the learning suited to 
their years, and current in the times: the second, at 
Oxford, which consisted also of a Warden and seventy 
Fellows, was to receive the same scholars, as they 
advanced toward manhood, and to instruct them in 
Theology, Canon and Civil Law, Philosophy, Medicine, 
and in the various sciences most useful for the practice 
of social life. There was, besides, a noble establish- 
ment of clerks, choristers, and inferior officers; and 
the whole was endowed with funds on the noblest 
scale of munificence. 

To this great work Wykeham devoted himself for 
many years. That the benefits of his design might 
not be suspended until the necessary buildings were 

completed, he secured, in the intermediate time, the 
best instructions that he could procure for his seventy 
scholars at Winchester, and seventy at Oxford. And, 
at length, the two fabrics were finished with a magni- 
ficence of design, which might have been exjjccted 
from a founder eminently skilled, as Wykeham was, 
in architecture. They were each about six years in 
building The College at Oxford was opened and 
entered on, with great solemnity, on the 14th of 
April, 1386; that at Winchester on the 2Sth of 
March, 1393. 

The design of Wykeham was one for which he 
had no precedent before him ; nor has his plan been 
completely followed by njorc than one person since, 
and that person was a king. Henry the Sixth, in 
the following century, made himself intimately ac- 
quainted with the institutions of Wykeham, and 
copied them for his two Colleges of Eton, and King's 
College Cambridge. 

But, although only one individual was found com- 
pletely to emulate Wykeham, the example of his 
munificence was not altogether lost. One of the 
youths, whom he himself placed in his school, was 
Henry Chicheley; who afterwards became Archbishop 
of Canterbury, and founded All Souls' College in 
Oxford. His school at Winchester was also taught 
by William of Wainfleet, who, in the course of time, 
attained the highest honours in Church and State, 
and became the founder of Magdalen College in the 
same University. 

Wykehara lived to see his foundations flourishing 
in reputation and usefulness. It was his principle 
not to leave his benefactions to take effect after his 
death. He expressly said, that he resolved to ex- 
ecute his designs during his life, that he might 
see with his own eyes their practical operation, 
and apply to them such securities and improve- 
ments, as experience might show to him to be 
useful. On the same principle, he executed in his 
life-time various other works, which might have 
immortalized any other man. He repaired his castles ; 
he rebuilt churches; he made public roads. But his 
greatest work in architecture, was the re-construction 
of the entire nave of his Cathedral at Winchester; 
which remains, to the present time, a monument of 
his genius, and exhibits one of our finest specimens 
of the pointed style of building prevalent in his age. 
We must mention one other very pleasing instance 
of the liberality of this munificent Prelate. By his 
will he had bequeathed legacies and remembrances to 
various friends and public bodies. And, in order to 
ensure their due appropriation, he paid them during 
his life-time; thus becoming, in a manner, the executor 
of his own will. 

William of Wykeham died in the year 1404, in his 
eightieth year, full of age and honours; leaving an 
example that cannot easily be paralleled, of jirinciples 
directed by consummate prudtmce and judgment, and 
animated by unbounded generosity. 

A GREAT means of happiness is, a constant employment 
for a desirable end, and a consciousness of advancement 
towards that end. 

One part, one little part, we dimly scan, 
Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream, 
Yet dare ttrraif^n the whole stupendous plan. 
If but that little part incongruous seem ; 
Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem. 
Oft from aiipareirt ill our blessings rise : 
Oh ! then renounce that impious self-esteem. 
That aims to trace the secrets of the skies ; 
For thou art but of dust, — be humble and be wise. 





[March 29 


Volumes might be written, and have been, upon 
Birds' Nests. The great variety of materials and of 
construction displayed in these interesting structures, 
is knowTi to every school-boy ; but there is one kind 
of nests, of which we are not aware that there is any 
specimen to be found in the architecture of British 
birds, — we allude to Pensile, or Pendent Nests. 
There is an account of one of these nests, that of 
the Tailor Bird, in our First Volume, page 172 ; and 
some curious specimens of pendent nests may be 
seen in the British Museum. Some of these structures 
are solitary, others are thickly clustered together ; of 
the latter kind the most remarkable is that of the 
African Pensile Grosbeak, (Loxia pensilisj of which 
five or six hundred nests have been seen hanging 
upon one tree. The Grosbeak's nest is a sort of 
basket of straw and reeds, in the shape of a bag, 
with the entrance below. It is fastened to the twig 
of a tree, and, generally, overhangs a stream. The 
birds go on from year to year hanging one nest 
to another, so that these at length accumulate to a 
chain of five or six of them suspended from one twig. 

Several varieties of the Finch Tribe, in South 
Africa, suspend their nests from the branches of 
trees, especially when they happen to impend over a 
river or precipice. The object of this precaution, it 
is supposed, is to secure their offspring from the 
assaults of their numerous enemies, particularly the 
serpent race. 

The Baya, or Bottle-crested Sparrow, is remarkable 
for its pendent nest, l)rilliant plumage, and uncommon 
sagacity. These birds arc found in most parts of 
Hindostan. The nests are formed in a very ingenious 
manner, by long grass woven together in the shape 
of a bottle, and suspended by the other end to the 
extremity of a flexible branch, the more effectually, 
gays Mr. Forbes, to secure the eggs and young brood 
from serpents, monkeys, squirrels, and birds of prey. 

But the most celebrated of the pendent nests is that 
of the Baltimore Starling, speaking of which Mr. 
Wils<jn, in his American Ornithology, says, — " Almost 
the whole genus of Orioles belong to America, and. 

with few exceptions, build pensile nests. Few ot 
them, however, equal the Baltimore Starling in the 

construction of these receptacles for their young 

I have a number of their nests now before me, all 
completed, and with eggs. One of these, the neatest, 
is in the form of a cylinder, of five inches diameter, 

and seven inches in depth This nest was hung on 

the extremity of the horizontal branch of an apple- 
tree, and was visible one hundred yards off, though 
shaded by the sun, and was the work of a very 
beautiful bird." 

In one of the religious periodical publications for 
last month, rfhe Christian Observer ,J the Editor, in 
allusion to this passage from Wilson, has given a 
moralizing turn to the subject in the following verses, 
with which, for variety's sake, we shall conclude our 
present detached notices. 


The Oriole builds her a pensile nest • 

It hangs by a thread, and it waves in the skies ; 
Yet no foe dares that tranfiuil asylum molest : 

If he tempt the frail twig, it forsakes him — he dies. 
The lion is tracked to the wild tangled lair; 

In vain the whale snrinks to the dark icy wave; 
The elephant's strength may not burst the fell snare, 

Nor the swift-bounding fawn find retreat in her cave: 
Yet the Oriole sings in her soft fragile nest, 

Though it hang by a thread and is rocked by the gale 
Foes are near, yet no tumult approaches her breast • 

Her offspring no prowling marauders assail. 
O'erhanging the torrent, unheeded, alone. 

In her fair leafy island she nurtures her brood ; — 
Would they wish for some path-way to tempt realms unknown 

By that path-way, so envied, would dangers intrude. 
Then blest be the cottage that shields me from care ; 

I ask no new ties of ambition or pride ; 
May my nest loose-suspended float calm in mid air, 

Unsullied by earth, though to earth near allied : 
Yet nearer to heaven ; for death's wintry blast 

The thread that enlinks me to earth shall dissever ; 
This nest soon must fall — its frail grace may not last 

But the soul disenthralled shall be buoyant for ever. 
And aye shall it sing, where a calm cloudless sky. 

And a clime ever bright, heaven's spring-tide disclose ; 
Where no shelter is craved, for no danger i.s nigh , 

And the fluttering wanderer sinks to repose. 
1 have built o'er a torrent — for rude is life's stream ; 

I have hung by a thread over death's sullen wave . 
Soft zephyrs have lulled me in youth's idle dream. 

Or tempests portended the night of the grave. 




My spnng has swift flitted, my summer is past. 
And autumn is yielding to winter's chill storm ; 

Blay this fast-flagging wing find a seller at last. 
Where no whirlwinds the halcyon noontide deform. 

And find it 1 shall ; for there waiteth a rest — 
So uttered the High One; whose word may not fail ; — 

I shall find it where, deathless, hope's long-sought behest 
Shall not hang by a thread, or be whirled by the gale. 

The Oriole builds her a pensile cot ; 

And pensile on earth be each hope or fear ; 
Rejoicing as though I rejoiced not. 

And weeping as though unbedimmed by a tear. 

But the eagle repairs to the lofty rock ; 

Serene are the skies where she plumeth her wing ; 
And I too would build where no tempests can shock — 

I would build in the land of perpetual spring. 



No. X. Dew. | 

There is scarcely a more beautiful sight in nature 
than that which is presented in a clear autumn 
morning, soon after sun-rise. Everj' leaf and spray is 
united by the light tissue of the gossamer-spider's ' 
web, on which are threaded beads of transparent water, i 
glittering in the beams of the rising sun. Every j 
blade of grass is, in like manner, enveloped in a 
fine coating of moisture, and spangled with brilliant 
drops. On an attentive observation, it ■will be found 
that the light, which passes through these minute 
globes of water, is separated into distinct colours. 
Spots of vivid red, yellow, and blue, will be perceived 
scattered, apparently at random, over the glistening 
surface, and, in some favourable points of view, there 
may be traced upon the plain an iris, composed of 
the same colours as the rainbow, and in the same 
order, but arranged in two branches receding from 
the eye. 

The copious deposition of moisture, which pro- 
duces this splendid spectacle, may have been occa- 
sioned by various causes. Fine rain may have fallen, 
or there may have been a sensible mist, or a thick 
/og. But, in many instances, the atmosphere will 
have appeared perfectly clear during the whole pre- 
ceding night, and all the brilliant display will have 
been caused solely by the dew. 

We propose to show in what manner the dew is 
deposited. It is a very common error to suppose, 
that the dew /alls in the same manner as rain or 
mist, only in much finer particles. A very slight 
observation will show that dew is not thus formed ; 
for it is often deposited on the sides, and on the 
nnder part of blades of grass and other substances, 
as well as on their upper surfaces. 

Dew, in fact, does not fall, but is formed by the 
condensation of the moisture of the atmosphere. 
Every one is familiar with this phenomenon, though 
many may not have thought much about the cause of 
it. If we bring a bottle from a cool cellar in the sum- 
mer, a copious deposition of dew takes place upon its 
outer surface. If a sudden hail-storm drives against 
the windows, a dew is often deposited upon the inner 
surface. In these and the like instances, the 
surface exposed to the air is colder than the air 
itself And since it is found that heat always passes 
from a hotter body to one that is colder, the invisible 
vapour of water in the atmosphere immediately in 
contact with the glass, loses part of the heat, which 
is necessary in order to keep it in the state of vapour, 
and is condensed, or reduced to the form of water. 

The moisture begins to be thus precipitated at a 
certain temperature, depending upon the quantity of 
vapour in the atmosphere. This temperature is 
called the dew-point. 

But heat is given out from one body to another. 

not only when they are close together, but when they 
are at great distances from each other. Without at 
all attempting to show what heat is, or how it is 
communicated from one body to another, it is suffi- 
cient for ovur present purpose to know, that there is a 
constant tendency in all bodies towards an equality 
of temperature ; so that if there be two bodies heated 
to different degrees, the heat of that which is the 
hotter is given out, and increases the heat of the 
colder body. If the bodies are in contact, the heat 
is said to be communicated by conduction ; if they 
are not in contact, the heat is said to be radiated from 
one body to another. 

When, for instance, we are standing before a fire 
in a cold day, the heat of the fire is so much greater 
than that of the human body, that we are sensible of 
a great radiation of heat from the fire. But if a 
person comes suddenly into the room from the frosty 
atmosphere, we are sensible that he strikes cold; that 
is, that the heat given out by radiation from our 
bodies to his, is greater than that which we receive in 

By means of a delicate thermometer, the radiation 
of heat is made verj' perceptible : and different bodies 
are found to radiate heat with greater or less readi- 
ness. Among those which radiate heat rapidly, are 
glass, wool, the blades of grass, cotton, &c. 

Hence, every object in nature is constantly radi- 
ating heat from its surface. If a body be surrounded 
by objects which are hotter than itself, it becomes 
heated by radiation : if it be exposed to the influence 
of objects which are colder than itself, it becomes 
cooled: and its temperature will not be sensibly 
altered, if the bodies around it have nearly the same 
temperature as itself. If, also, a body be formed of 
a substance which conducts heat badly, but radiates 
heat easily, the extremities of such a body, when 
exposed to other cooler bodies, will lose heat by 
radiation faster than it can be replaced by conduction, 
and will become colder than the other parts of the 

Suppose, now, an extensive plain, partly covered 
with grass, and exposed to the atmosphere in a 
serene night. If the sky be overclouded, the heat 
radiated from all the objects in the plain, wiU be so 
nearly equal to that which is radiated from the 
clouds, that the surface of the plain will cool very 
slowly. But if the clouds clear away, the heat 
which is radiated from the plain, passes off into the 
open space of the heavens, and so little is radiated 
back, that the process of cooling goes on with great 
rapidity. In . those parts of the plain which are 
covered with sand, or stone, or other substances 
which conduct heat well, the heat which is radiated 
from the surface, is speedily restored in part, by 
heat passing along the body from the interior, and 
the surface cools more slowly. But this is not the 
case with the blades of grass, or with any flocky 
substance, such as wool, cobwebs, and the hke. 
These substances radiate heat rapidly, but conduct it 
badly. Hence, their surfaces become speedily cool; 
and as soon as they are cooled down to the tempe- 
rature of the dew-point, the moisture of the air is 
condensed upon them, or there is a dew. If the 
radiation of heat still continues, the temperature 
of those surfaces may be still further lowered, even 
to the freezing point ; and then the deposition takes 
the beautiful form of hoar-frost. 

In order, then, that dew may be deposited, the 
following circumstances must conspire : 

1. The sun must be absent, or, at least, must be 
very near the horizon. 

2. The atmosphere must be nearly calm ; whence 



[March 29, 

the Spanish name of dew is Serena, indicating the sere- 
nity of the sky when it is most copiously deposited*. 

3. The sky must be free from clouds. 

4. The substances, on which the dew is deposited, 
must be freely exposed to the action of the sky, and 
must be of such a nature, as to radiate heat easily, 
and to conduct it with difficulty. 

Dr. Wells, in his beautiful and philosophical Essay 
on Dew, published in 1814, was the first person who 
fully explained all the circumstances connected with 
this interesting natural phenomenon. C. 

• Hence is derived the word " Serenade." 

We sometimes saw a Hue line suddenly diawn across 
a field of pure white, then another above it, and anotlier, 
all parallel, and attended each time, witli a loud crash like 
cannon, producing together, the effect of long-l)rotracted 
peals of thunder. At other times, some portion of the 
vast field of snow, or rather snowy ice, gliding gently 
away, exposed to view a new surface, of purer white than 
the first, and the cast-off drapery gathering in long folds, 
either fell at once down the precipice, or disappeared 
behind some intervening ridge, which the sameness of 
colour rendered invisible, and was again seen soon after, 
in another direction, shooting out of some narrow channel, 
a cataract of white dust, which, observed through a tele- 
scope, was, however, found to be composed of broken 
fragments of ice or compact snow, many of them suffi- 
cient to overwhelm a village, if there had been any in the 
valley where they fell. I must own, that while we shut 
our ears, the mere sight might dwindle down to the effect 
of a fall of snow from the roof of a house ; but when the 
potent sound was heard, along the whole range of many 
miles, when the time of awful suspense, between the fall 
and the crash was measured, the imagination taking flight, 
outstripped till bounds at once, and went beyond the 
mighty reality itself. Simond's Switzerland. 

Theiik is nothing more striking in the Malayan forests, 
than the grandeur of the vegetation ! The magnitude of 
the flowers, creepers and trees, contrasts strikingly with 
the stunted and, I had almost said, pigmy vegetation of 
England. Compared with our forest-trees, your largest 
oak is a mere dwarf Here, we have creepers and vines, 
entwining larger trees, and hanging suspended for more 
than a hundred feet, in girth not less than a man's body, 
and manv much thicker ; the trees seldom under a hun- 
dred, and generally approaching a hundred and sixty, to 
two hundred feet in height. One tree that we measured, 
was, in circumference, nine yards ! and this is nothing to 
one I measured in Java. Sir Stamford Raffles. 

A CIRCUMSTANCE Occurred here, (Cawoor,) which marks 
the superstitious fears of . the natives. The coolies, (or 
porters,) in passing through the forest, came upon a tiger, 
crouched on the path; they immediately stopped, and 
addressed him in terms of supplication, assuring hiin, 
they were poor people, carrying the Tuaii Basar, great 
man's luggage, who would be very angry with them, if 
they did not arrive in time, and, therefore, they implored 
permission to pass quietly, and without molestation. Tlie 
tiger, being startled at tlieir appearance, got up, and 
walked quietly into the depths of the forest; and they came 
on, perfectly satisfied that it was in consequence of their 

petition, that they passed in safety. Lady Raffles's 

Journey in Sumatra. 

The King of the Island Toobow, is himself a Christian. 
This personage came on board, and paid the captain a 
visit. While on board, he unconsciously conveyed a severe 
practical reproof to certain persons, in the following man- 
ner. He sat down at the captain's table to partake of some 
refreshment, and though ho was helped, paused ere he 
began to eat, and on his being asked why he did not begin, 
he replied, that he was waiting to say grace; (for this 
had been omitted on the present occasion, as it too fre- 
quently is.) However, the captain and the rest immediately 
arose, somewhat ashamed at being thus put to the blush, 
by one, whom they doubtless considered as infinitely their 
inferior in intellectual qualities. Upon which the king 
arose very seriously, and gave thanks, previous to com- 
mencing his repast. Extract from a Letter, dated Ton- 

gataboo, Friendly Islands, May 27, 1833. 

No. III. TuE Repulse of the French at 


It was towards the close of the year 1807, that 
Buonaparte and the then King of Spain agreed to 
unite ill seizing the kingdom of Portugal, and arranged 
a plan for the partition of the whole territory uudor 
the Portuguese dominion. 

Before the end of that year, a body of French 
troops, under General Junot, had marched through 
Spain, and taken possession of Lisbon; while a 
Spanish army had invaded Portugal, north and south. 
But the court of Spain soon began to repent of 
having joined in this nefarious project, and to suspect 
the sincerity of its wily ally; for Napoleon, taking 
advantage of the dissensions that raged among the 
Royal Family, amused and cajoled King Charles and 
his son Ferdinand, and keeping both parties in alarm 
and suspense, succeeded in marching his armies into 
Spain, and obtaining hold of the principal frontier 
fortresses, under the pretence of supporting his 
troops that were in Portugal. The French soon after- 
wards entered Madrid, and Buonaparte, contriving to 
inveigle both Charles and Ferdinand into his power 
at Bayonne, caused them to renounce all claims 
upon the throne of Spain in his favour. The Spanish 
people, justly indignant at these proceedings, took 
up arms against the French, and applied to England 
for assistance, which was instantly given. Arms 
and ammunition, money and clothing, were forwarded 
to them; and a body of 9000 troops, which hap- 
pened to be assembled at Cork, was placed under 
the command of Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur 
Wellesley, and directed towards the Peninsula. 

The British troops sailed from Cork on the 12th 
of July, 1808, and soon afterwards arrived off the 
coast of Portugal. They began to disembark on the 
1 St of August, but the operation was so difficult, that 
it was not completed until the 5 th; and on that day. 
General Spencer arrived from Gibraltar, bringing 
with him a reinforcement, which swelled their 
numbers to 12,300 men. Junot quickly heard of 
their arrival, and was greatly embarrassed on account 
of the scattered state of his army. General Laborde, 
justly reputed to be one of the ablest of the French 
generals, was despatched from Lisbon with 3000 
infantry, 500 or 600 cavalry, and five pieces of 
artillery, and directed to advance towards Leria ; 
while General Loison, with between 7000 and 8000 
men, was directed to effect a junction with Laborde. 

The rapidity of the British general's movements 
completely destroyed this arrangement. Before 
either Loison or Laborde could reach LerIa, the 
British had already taken possession of it ; the line 
of communication between those generals was thus 
cut, and as their junction could only now be effected 
by a circuitous route, Laborde was exposed to be 
attacked alone, by an enemy who more than doubled 
him in numbers. Sir Arthur Wellesley availed himself , 
of the advantage, and moving briskly on, came up 
with Laborde at Roli^a. The French were attacked, 
and driven successively from two strong positions, 
which their able general had most skilfully selected, 
and which he defended in a most brave and soldier- 
like manner. They retired along the road leading to 
Torres Vedras, but Sir Arthur was prevented from 
pursuing them, because that movement would have 
led him away from the sea; and it was necessary for 
him to remain near the coast, in order to cover tlie 
landing of some reinforcements which had just 
arrived. On the 20th, the whole army was re-or- 
ganised, and preparation made for resuming offensive 
operations on the morrow. But at this critical 




moment. Sir Arthur was superseded in the cliief 
command of the army ; and his successor. Sir Harry 
Burrard, did not deem it prudent to venture upon any 
offensive movement, unfil some reinforcements, which 
were expected under Sir John Moore, should arrive, 
and the whole army be concentrated. 

In the mean while, Junot was not idle ; leaving a 
sufficient force in Lisbon, and the forts on the Tagus, 
he quitted that city on the 15th, with a reserve of 
2000 infantry, fiOO cavalry, and 10 pieces of artillery, 
carrying with him, also, his grand park of ammu- 
nition, and a military chest containing one million of 
francs. Pushing forward himself to Alcoentre, he 
there found Loison, who was trying to re-establish 
his communication with Laborde. That general had 
reached Santarem on the 13th, in a deplorable con- 
dition. The weather had been intensely hot, without 
a clrud in the sky, or a breath of air stirring. 
Whol^ companies had lain down upon the way; 
many died of thirst, and more would have perished, 
if the ifficers of the staff, as soon as they arrived at 
that ci\y, had not gone out with a great number of 
the inhc bitants, carrying water and brandy to refresh 
them, and carts to convey those who were unable to 
proceed further on foot. Each of Loison's long 
marches at this time, is said to have cost him not 
less than an hundred men; and his troops were so 
dreadfully exhausted, that he was compelled to re- 
main two days at Santarem. At length, by the 2{)th, 
Junot had assembled his whole force at Torres 
Vedras, in number about 14,000 men; and then 
reorganizing his army, he began to prepare for a 
decisive battle. 

The ground occupied by the British at Vimiera, 
had been taken up merely as a temporary position, 
and without any expectation on their part, of being 
called upon to fight a battle there. The village itself, 
situated in a beautiful valley, through which the 
little river Maceira flows, contained the park and 
commissariat stores ; in front, arose a rugged isolated 
height, on which was posted the centre; the right 
rested on a mountain that swept in a half-circle 
from the village to the sea-coast, and the left, which 
was composed merely of a few piquets, occupied 
another mountain, extending from the opposite side 
of the village. On the morning of the 21st, about 
seven o'clock, a cloud of dust was observed beyond 
the nearest hills, and soon an advanced guard of 
horse, was seen to crown the heights to the south- 
ward, and to send forward scouts on every side. 
Presently, columns of infantry began to move succes- 
sively along the road leading to Lourinham ; and as 
they passed by, in front of the British centre, it 
became evident that a battle was their object, and 
that too, on the left of the British, which Junot had 
rightly judged to be weak. Sir Arthur quickly saw 
their plan, and he promptly met it, by moving a 
strong force from his right to support his left. The 
route of these troops lay across the valley behind 
the village, and their passage being quite screened by 
the high hill in its front, was thus unknown to Junot, 
who afterwards, to his surprise, found a powerful 
front of battle, where he had expected only a wealc 
flank. The French army consisted of two divisions 
of infantry, under Loison and Laborde respectively, 
a third under Kellerman, which was composed of 
grenadiers, and kept as a reserve, and a fourth, of 
cavalry, under General Margaron; together with 23 
pieces of artillery. 

About ten o'clock the French began the fight. 
The divisions of Loison and Laborde, advanced 
in two separate attacks, the one headed by those 
Generals in person, against the British centre ; the 

other, under Generals Brennier and Solignac, directed 
against the British left, partly upon its front, and 
partly upon its flank. 

Loison's men came on boldly, and with the cha- 
racteristic impetuosity of French troops. They forced 
in the skirmishers at once, but were received with 
a sharp discharge of musketry. Some close and 
heavy firing ensued, and the order was then given 
to use the bayonet. The enemy " came to the 
charge bravely," says Mr. Southey, " and stood 
it for a moment;" in that moment their foremost 
rank fell " like a line of grass before the mowers." 
This is not the flourish of an historian, seeking 
artfully to embellish details which no art can render 
iiiteresting to any but military readers; it is the 
language of an actor in the scene, who could not 
call it to mind in after-hours without shuddering; 
for the very men, whose superiority was thus decidedly 
proved, could not speak without involuntary awe, of 
so complete and instantaneous a destruction, produced 
as it was, not by artillery or explosions, but by their 
own act and deed, and the strength of their own 
hearts and hands." 

Simultaneously with Loison's attack, a dense 
column of 2000 men, led by Laborde, and preceded 
by a cloud of light troops, advanced towards the 
opposing lines ; the British artillery, from the height 
on which they were posted, opened a terrible fire, 
and shattered them much; yet the French, notwith- 
standing, came on like good soldiers, and driving in 
the English skirmishers, quickly made their way to 
the summit of the hill. But here they were met by 
the 50th regiment, which, first pouring in a deadly 
volley among the thick masses, then charged them 
front and flank with the bayonet, and drove them 
back confusedly. Loison's attack had been, at the 
same time, repulsed ; and Colonel Taylor, seizing the 
opportunity, burst in with his handful of dragoons, 
among the retreating masses, and pursued them to a 
considerable distance, with much slaughter. But 
Margaron soon espied the weakness of this gallant 
and devoted band; and galloping down upon them 
fiercely with his horsemen, slew the colonel, and cut 
half of the men to pieces. Kellerman now brought 
his reserve into action; a part was employed to cover 
the retreat of the beaten troops, while the other 
moved vigorously to attack the extreme left of the 
British centre, which occupied a church and church- 
yard that blocked the road leading over the height to 
the village. Towards this spot the 43rd regiment 
was engaged in a hot skirmish among some vineyards, 
with a part of Laborde's division. " The grenadiers 
coming on at a brisk pace," says Colonel Napier, 
"beat back the advanced companies of the 43rd; 
but to avoid the artillery that swejjt their left, they 
dipped a little into the ravine, and were taken on the 
other flank by the guns of the eighth and fourth 
brigades, and at the same time, the 43rd, rallying in 
a mass, broke down upon the head of the column at 
a moment when the narrowness of the way, and the 
discharges of the artillery, had somewhat disordered 
its formation ; a short yet desperate fight took place ; 
the enemy was repulsed in disorder, but the regiment 
suffered severely." 

All the enemy's attempts upon the British centre 
were now entirely defeated. In the mean while. 
General Brennier had marched against the left. But 
coming unexpectedly upon a ravine, which protected 
its front, and of the existence of which he had pre- 
viously been ignorant, he got entangled among the 
rocks and watercourses. Solignac, leading his men 
round, beyond the end of this ravine, reached the 
extremity of the mountain on which the English 



[March 29, 1834. 



left was posted, thinking to fall upon their flank. 
But he found a strong force there, which instantly 
bore down upon him, and spreading out as the ridge 
on which it moved widened, drove him quickly back. 
Solignac himself was carried from the field, severely 
wounded ; six of his guns were captured, and leaving 
two regiments to guard them, the English general 
(Ferguson) pressed sharply forward upon the dis- 
ordered columns of the French. At this moment, 
Brennier extricated himself from the ravine, and for 
an instant surprising those two regiments, retook 
the guns ; but the British quickly rallied, and re- 
covering the artillery, overthrew their assailants, 
and made Brennier himself prisoner. He was im- 
mediately carrLed to Sir Arthur Wellesley, and he 
eagerly asked, if the reserve under Kellermau had 
yet charged; Sir Arthur having previously learnt that 
it had, was now satisfied that all the enemy's efforts 
were exhausted. He at once saw the advantage of 
following up the victory, and resolved, while his left 
pressed Junot, to march the rest of his army towards 
Lisbon, and so cut the French off from that city. 
But Sir Harry Burrard, who was now commander, 
and who had been present during the action, although 
he had abstained from interfering with Sir Arthur 
Wellesley's arrangements, did not approve of the 
plan; weighing all the circumstances of the case, 
the bad state of his artillery- carriages, the want of 
draft horses, the confusion of his commissariat, and 
the destruction of his cavalry, he thought the pro- 
posal perilous. By his orders, all offensive opera- 
tions were stopped, until the arrival of Sir John Moore, 
with the expected reinforcements. 

The loss of the French in this action was severe, 
and amounted to between 2000 and 3000 men. 
Their dead lay thickly strewn around ; and they left 
13 guns, and 23 ammunition waggons, in the hands 
of the victors. The English loss amounted to little 
more than 700 killed, wounded, and missing. Tlieir 
numbers in the field before the action were 16,000, 
of which not more than one half had been engaged; 
the French were about 14,000, including 1300 

cavalry, and their entire force was brought into 
action. Most of the wounded French, who fell into 
the conquerors' hands, were young and of delicate 
appearance, " apparently men," says Mr. Southey, 
" whose lot would not have fallen in the army, under 
any other system than that of the conscription, 
though, having been forced into it, they had acquired 
the worst vices which have ever disgraced and de- 
graded the profession of arms." Yet even in this 
piteous state, these unhappy youths would fain 
rejoice in their sufferings, and fully betrayed that 
ardent and insatiable thirst for military glory which 
has ever been characteristic of their countrymen, and 
which Napoleon so well knew how to foster, and to 
turn to a profitable account, in the prosecution of his 
own ambitious schemes. To one of them, a chaplain 
of the British army happened to address himself in 
the langtiage of commiseration, uttering at the same 
time, a Christian expression of regret at the horrors 
of war : but the Frenchman fiercely answered, with a 
mixture of pride and indignation, that he gloried in 
his wounds, and that war was the greatest happiness 
of life ! * 

• We beg, once for all, to express our obligation, in this and suc- 
ceeding papers of the series, to the invaluable Histories of the Penin- 
sular War, by the two great standard writers upon the subject, 
SouTiiEY and Napier. 

" He that loses his conscience, has nothing left that is 
worth keeping." Therefore be sure you look to that. And 
in the next place look to your health : and if you have it, 
praise God, and value it next to a good conscience; for 
health is the second blessing that we mortals are capable 
of, a blessing that money cannot buy, therefore value it, 
and be thankful for it. Izaak Walton. 

Conscience distasteful truths may tell, 
But mark her sacred lessons well, 
With her whoever lives at stiife 
Loses his better friend for life. 


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T H 


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Vol. IV. 




Vienna, the capital of the Austrian empire, and the 
largest city in the whole of Germany, is seated on the right 
bank of the Danube, at the spot where that magnificent 
river, no longer rolling in one rapid and impetuous mass, 
spreads out its waters into several smaller streams, slow and 
majestic in their windings, and forming, by their many 
cliaiinels, a number of islands, of various sizes. The 
Germans call it fVien, — an appellation derived from a little 
river of that name, a tributary to the great Danube, into 
which it pours its diminutive stream, after passing through 
the city itself; the Hungarians and the Turks style it 
Betsch, and the Poles, Wicden 


In the time of the Romans, Vienna was long a military 
station, under the name of Castra Flaviana, and afterwards 
of Vindobona; and it was here that the Emperor Marcus 
Aurelius died, in the second century. Upon the decline 
of the empire, it fell successively into the hands of the 
Goths andHuns; andin791 was, by Charlemagne, attached 
to his dominions. The origin of the modern town is 
commonly ascribed to Henry the First, Duke of Austria, 
who is said to have founded it in 1142; and towards the 
close of the thirteenth century, it passed, together with the 
duchy, into the possession of the illustrious house of 
Hapsburg, whose descendants still retain it, with their 
imperial throne of Austria. 

In 1477, the city was nnsuccessfully besieged by the 
Hungarians, but captured in 1484, by their king Matthias, 
who resided in it till his death, after which, it was restored 
to Austria. The next enemies who assaulted it were the 
Turks; whose power had increased to a most alarming 
degree, since their taking of Constantinople in 145 !, and 
whose ambitious and enterprising Sultans were now de- 
signing to carry their victorious arms into the very heart of 
Christian Europe. 

In 1.529, Solyman the Magnificent encamped under the 
walls of Vienna, and destroyed its suburbs ; but after a 
fruitless siege of thirty days, the advance of winter, and 
the dread of approaching succours, compelled him to retreat. 

In 1619, it was twice blockaded by the Bohemian Pro- 
testants, who, roused to rebellion by the active persectitions 
of their Catholic sovereign, the Archduke Ferdinand, and 
his equally zealous nobles, invaded Austria, and imprisoned 
their intolerant ruler within the walls of his own capital. 
But the most memorable attack that it ever sustained, is 
that of the Turks in 1683; and of this we shall speak more 
at large. 


Towards the close of the seventeenth century, the Arcli- 
duke Leopold, who was also Emperor of Germany, and 
King of Hungary, had driven his Hungarian subjects to 
revolt by repeated oppressions and infringements on their 
national liberties, of which, not the least was the cruel 
persecution to which he had subjected those among them 
who were Protestants, in his earnest desire to extirpate 
their religion. Headed by Tekeli, one of their principal 
nobles; the insurgents entered into an alliance with the 
Turks ; and the reigning Sultan, Mahomet the Fourth, 
demanded certain conditions of their sovereign, which 
were equivalent to a declaration of war. Leopold was 
aJarmed, and anxiously besought the aid of the Poles, who 
were then ruled by the celebrated Sobieski, under the title 
of John the Third. This gallant monarch had always 
espoused the interests of Louis the Fourteenth of France, 
and, being therefore opposed to those of Austria, was, at 
first, disinclined to assist the proud and tyrannical emperor; 
but as a Christian knight and a noble Pole, he had vowed 
unextinguishable hostility against the Moslems, and he 
therefore bound himself, by treaty, to aid Leopold with 
48,000 men. The imperial force was small; it amounted 
barely to 37,000 troops, and was commanded by the Duke 
of Lorraine. 

Early in May the Moslem army was on its march, in 
number 300,000 men, Turks, Hungarians, and Tartars. 
300 pieces of cannon accompanied this terrible horde, and 
its leader was the proud and ambitious Kara Mustapha, the 
Grand Vizier, and son-in-law of the Sultan, whose fearful 
yoke he eagerly thirsted to fasten upon the Christian nations 

of the west. The redoubtable host advanced from Belgrade 
along the right bank of the Danube, and encamped about 
Vienna, almost without a blow. The investment was soon 
completed, and on the 8th of July the Turkish ai tillery began 
to play upon the walls of the city The siege was prosecuted 
with vigour, and the red-hot balls of the infidels caused 
great havoc among the defenders ; but they bravely held 
out, cheered by the hope of speedy succour. 

For more than two months did this siege continue, and 
then was Vienna reduced to the last extremity. Famine, 
disease, and the sword, had cut off two-thirds of its garrison ; 
and, in the quaint language of Sobieskis French biogra- 
pher, " the grave continued open without ever closing its 
mouth." Many breaches were made in the walls ; the 
massy bastions were crumbling in ruins, and entrench- 
ments thrown up in haste in the streets formed the last 
resource of the besieged. Stahremberg, the gallant go- 
vernor, he who had declared tliat " he would not surrender 
the place but with the last drop of his blood," began now 
to grow fearful of the restilt. " No more time to lose, my 
lord, no more time to lose," was all that he could write to 
the Duke of Lorraine, for he had already announced the 
necessity of surrendering, if not relieved in three davs ; 
and the nightly signals of distress from the summits of the 
steeples, showed fully the extremities to which the city was 
reduced. But the Turkish Vizier seemed loth to storm it, 
and he was, besides, carelessly confident in his own 
strength, and in the weakness of his opponents. For 
when the news was brought to him that the king of Poland 
was advancing, the haughty Mustapha received it with 
contempt : — " The king of Poland ! " said he, laughing, " I 
know, indeed, that he has sent Lubomirski with a few 
squadrons !" 

At length the long-expected aid arrived to the relief of 
the suffering city. " One evening," says the French writer, 
M. de Salvandy, " the sentinel who was on the watch at 
the top of the steeple of St Stephen's, perceived a blazing 
(lame on the summits of the Calemberg; soon after an 
army was seen preparing to descend the ridge. Every 
telescope was now turned in that direction ; and from the 
brilliancy of their lances, and the splendour of their 
banners, it was easy to see that it was the hussars of 
Poland, so redoubtable to the Osmanlies, who were approach- 
ing. The Turks were immediately to be seen forming 
their vast host into divisions, — one destined to oppose this 
new enemy, and one to continue the assaults on the 
besieged." The sight which presented itself to the view 
of Sobieski, and the Christian army, when, from the 
sterile and inhospitable summit of the Calemberg hill, they 
looked do vn upon the vast and uneven plain below, was a 
magnificeut one. Sobieski was, however, nothing daunted 
by the grand array. " This man," said he, " is badly 
encamped,- he knows nothing of war, — we shall cer- 
tainly beat him." 

It was on the 12th of September, 1683, that was fought 
the great and mighty battle which was to decide the fate 
of Vienna and of Austria. At eleven o'clock the Poles 
appeared, and took their jjost on the right. "The laiperial 
eagles, " says M. de Salvandy, " saluted the squadrons of 
gilded cuirasses, with cries of ' Long live King John 
Sobieski!' and the sound, repeated along the Christian 
line, startled the Mussulman force. Sobieski charged in 
the centre, and directed his attack against the scarlet 
tent of the Sultan. He advanced, exclaiming, Non nobis, 
Domine, sed tibi sit gloria ! (Not unto us, O Lord, but 
unto Thee, be all the glory !) The Tartars and the Spahij 
(led, when they heard the name of the Polish hero repeated, 
from one end to the other of the Ottoman lines. ' By 
Allah,' exclaimed Sultan Gieray, ' the king is with 
them!' At this moment the moon was eclipsed, and the 
Mahometans beheld with dread, the crescent waning in 
the heavens. 

" At the same time, the hussars of Prince Alexander, 
who formed the leading column, broke into a charge 
amidst the national cry, ' God defend Poland !' The 
remaining squadrons, led by all that was noblest and 
bravest in the country, resplendent in arms, buoyant in 
courage, followed at a gallop. They cleared, without 
drawing bridle, a ravine, at which infantry might have 
paused, and charged furiously up the opposite bank. 
The shock wiis so violent, that almost all the lance» 



wore splintered. The Pachas of Aleppo and Siiistria 
were slain on the spot ; fuur other pachas fell under the 
sabres of Jablonowski. At the same time, Charles of 
Lorraine, had routed the force of the principalities, and 
tlireatoned the Ottoman camp. Kara Mustapha fell at 
once from the heights of confidence, to the depths of 
despair. ' Can you not aid me ?' said he, to the Kara of 
the Crimea. 'I know the King of Poland,' was the 
answer, ' and I tell you, that with such an enemy, we have 
no chance of safety but in flight." Mustapha in vain 
strove to rally his troops ; all, seized with a sudden panic, 
fled, not daring to lift their eyes to heaven. The cause of 
Europe, of Christendom, of civilization, had prevailed. 
The wave of the Mussulman power had retired, and 
retired never to return.' 

This happy deliverance was celebrated by suitable 
rejoicings ; and in commemoration of it, a thanksgi\ ing 
festival was instituted, to be observed annually on the l-ilh 
of September. But this was laid aside on the hundredth 
anniversary, in 1 783, a few years after the first partition of 
Poland, bjtweon Austria, Russia, and Prussia. 


IN 1805 ; AND IN 1809. 
Vienna, like most of the capitals of continental Europe, 
was for a while in the hands of Buonaparte; and on two 
different occasions, in 1805, and in ISO'J. It was in 1S05, 
that England, Russia, and Austria united in a third 
attempt to restrain the ambitious aggressions of the 
French Emperor, and he at once directed his armies 
into the territories of the last-mentioned power. His 
oiierations were attended with success ; and on the 
1 1th of November, his advanced guard appeared before 
Vienna, and took up their quarters in the suburbs of the 
city. At first, the intention of the Austrians had been to 
attempt the defence of their capital ; but it wa.i alterwards 
abandoned, because the fortifications, (the same which had 
withstood the siege of the Turks, in 1683,) were ancient 
and in disrepair, and could only have made sutlicient 
resistance to occasion the destruction of the city. The 
EmiKjror Francis, therefore, departed, to place himself 
under the protection of the advancing Russian forces, and 
on the 13th, the French entered Vienna, when they found 
it totally evacuated by the Austrian troops, and the military 
duty performed by the inhabitants. Marshals Lannes and 
Murat, with the advanced guard, marched through the 
city without halting, and approaching the main stream of 
tlie Danube, gained the bridge across it, by a bold artifice. 
Napoleon himself entered Vienna on the 14th, and found 
there an immense quantity of military stores of all kinds : 
he afterwards retired to the splendid Imperial Palace of 
Schiinbrunn, where he fixed his head-quarters. The city 
was garrisoned by the French till the peace of Pres- 
burgh, at the close of the year. 

The second occasion on which the French occupied 
Vienna, was in 1809. Early in that year. Napoleon was 
in Spain, v^.iiher he had moved the great mass of his 
armies to subdue the unexpected resistance which he there 
found, to his unprincipled and rapacious ambition. Austria 
thought the moment favouralde, and commenced a fk-esh 
war in April. But in a month her dreaded enemy was at 
the- gates of Vienna, which ho summoned to surrender on 
the 10th of May. The summons was rejected. The 
Archduke Maximilian had the command in the city; 
and, by his presence and exertions, he animated and 
encouraged the citizens to defend it, as long as the 
imperfect nature of the fortifications and their imskilfulness 
in the art of war would enable them. Mortars were quickly 
planted by the French, and a shower of bombs fell on the 
city. A Hag of truce soon appeared, but merely to 
intimate that the young Archduchess, Maria Louisa, (who 
diortly afterwards became Najioleon's wife,) had been 
left behind, through indisposition, when the Empeior 
Francis, and the greater part of his family, abandoned the 
capital, and that she was now confined in the Imperial 
Palace, which happened to be in the direct front of the 
bombardment. The palace was of course respected, and 
Napoleon ordered the guns to play in another direction. 
But the resistance did not long continue ; the city capitu- 
lated on the 12th, the Archduke Maximilian having, with 
the troops, secured his retreat, and destroyed the bridge 
across the Danube, which had been won by the French, 
cMi their former visit in 1805. Napoleon himself again 
flxe<l his head-quarters at Schiinbrunn, and, alter the battle 
of Wagram, he resided there for some months, until a 
fioace was concluded. 


Vienna is a singular city in its form and arrangement. 
■We have before observed that it stands on a plain, where 
the Danube breaks into several branches. On the south- 
ernmost of these the capital is built, forming three concen- 
trical circles ; the first, is the old city, surrounded by iis 
wall and rampart ; the next, is a plain called the glacis, 
which forms a complete circle of gardens and pleasure- 
grounds, except where the city is washed by the arm of 
the Danube ; and the third, which encloses the other two, 
is the suburbs ; an immense mass of houses, more open 
and loosely arranged tlian the inner city. The low level 
space of ground, which thus divides Vienna into two 
distant parts, is nearly a quarter of a mile in width ; and 
it was originally designed for the protection of the capital, 
in case of attack, by rendering the city, properly so called, 
a separate defence, which, it was thought, might hold out 
with success, even when the suburbs were in the hands 
of an enemy. 

The old city itself is not more than three miles in 
circumference, for it may be walked round in less than an 
hour. Its fortifications were once complete ; it was encom- 
passed by bastions and ditches, and used to communicate 
with the suburbs by twelve gates. But when the French 
were about to take their departure, in 1809, they began 
busily to destroy these defences, and before they left, had 
made suc^h extensiv* breaches as it would have required 
great labour and expense to repair. The Austrians ha<l 
been convinced by exiierience of the inutility of these 
ramparts for the protection of their town, and so without 
thinking of repairing the breaches) they wisely resolved to 
convert what remained into places of public recreation, 
and use them for promenading ; a purpose for which their 
breadth and elevation rendered them excellently adapted. 

The suburbs occupy much more ground than the old 
city, their circuit being more than twelve miles ; they are 
thirty-four in number, and are surrounded by a brick-wall, 
which travellers tell us is a mere instrument of police, to 
insure the detection of disaffected persons and contraband 
goods, by subjecting every thing, and every person, to a strict 
examination. The streets here are more regular and open 
than in the proper city, and they are interspersed with 
gardens and places of recreation ; but the houses are less 
elevated, and not so well built, although most of the wealthy 
and distinguished have residences. The largest, highest, 
and best, are generally such as are built in those parts 
which look immediately towards the city, where many of 
the public buildings are situated. These suburbs are of 
different sizes, and they all bear different names. Tlie 
largest and most populous is the Leopoldstadt, which lies 
to the north of the city, and is the island formed between 
the arm of the Danube and its main stream. It contains 
six hundred houses, but there is another which contains 
only eleven. 


The old city numbers as many as one hundred and twenty 
streets, but they are mostly narrow and crooked, thougli 
generally well paved and clean. Their appearance is 
antiquated and uregular, and they are just what might be 
expected to have grown up in the course of successive 
centuries, on a spot that became more precious in propor- 
tion as the people who sought protection within the walls 
that surrounded it became more numerous. Yet there are 
some large squares and open spaces, and the best of them 
are in the most unfashionable parts of the city ; but they 
are totally unlike our squares in London, for they are not 
railed off in the middle, and planted with trees and shrubs, 
nor are tliey encompassed with the splendid mansions of 
the noble and the wealthy. They are clean, open, well- 
paved places, surrounded by the busy shops and the com- 
Lrtable dwellings of the substantial citizens, and commonly 
ornamented with fountains, or religious monuments of some 
kind. Our engraving, in page 121, represents what i« 
called the Graben, a broad space in the very heart of the 
town, — one of its busiest thoroughfares, and yet entered at 
both extremities by the narrowest and most inconvenient 
lanes in Vienna. It is adorned with two fountains, (one 
only of which appears in our view,) ana they are them- 
selves decorated with statues of a strange and ill-chosen 
kind. There is also to be seen a tall curious monument, 
of sixty-six feet high, dedicated to the most Holy Trinity, 
and raised by the Emperor Leopold the First, in memory 
of the plague which ravaged his capital in 1679. Our 
readers will distinguish it ir the engraving by its pyramidal 




api)earance. We may mention, likewi!>e, the Joseph-Platz, 
where is a colossal equestrian statue, in hronze, of the 
Emperor Joseph the Second; the Hof, which is orna- 
mented with a statue of the Virgin, and two fountains ; 
the Neumaikt, the Uohemarkt, (he Kohlmarkt, and the 
liurg-Platz, on which stands the Burg, or Imperial 

Vienna has a gay and busy appearance, and in its 
bustling activity, more nearly resembles our own metropolis 
than does any other German capital. The streets aie 
crowded with people, who Hock in fi'om the suburbs, a ml 
who exhibit a diversity of character, corresponding to the 
various political divisions of the territory under the 
Austrian rule. Kiit, unfortunately for the lovers of the 
picturesque, there is to be found none of that diversity 
of costume, which might in former times have enlivened 
the streets of Vienna. The dresses of the persons who 
throng them, vary not materially fi-om those which we 
observe in our own metropolis ; e\en Greeks, Turks, and 
Tartars, are to be seen wearing coats and hats ; and for the 
ladies, the Parisian fashions find favour in their eyes here 
as elsewhere. 

HOUSES, &c. 

Thk style of building in the streets of Vienna is plain and 
massive : the houses are lofty, rising to four or fi\e floors, 
which are occupied by difTercnt families, and all approached 
as in Edinburgh and Paris, by one common staircase. 
Their average number of occupants is about forty ; but 
there are some individual masses of building in the very 
heart of the city, whicli are more thickly peopled, an<l, 
indeed, are as populous as large villages. The houses are 
generally built in the form of a square, surrounding a 
small court, which from their great height, and its own 
narrow dimensions, has much the appearance of a dark 
well, often communicating so little light to the staircase, as 
to render lamps necessary in the d.iy-tirae. Every house 
is under the superintendence of a Hausmeister, or house- 
master, who is a personage appointed by the proprietor, to 
watch over the building and its tenants, to preserve the 
uleanliness of the common-passages, and attend to the 
safety of the strcet-iloor. " This little despot," says Mr. 
Russell, in his Tour in Germani/, "commonly lurks in 
Sbmo dark hole on the ground-Hour, or stjU lower down ; 
and every evening, as the clock strikes ten, he locks the 
street-door. After this, there is neither ingress nor egress 
without his permission, and his favour is only to be gained 
at the expense of the pocket ; if you come home after ten 
o'clock, he expects his two-pence for hearing the bell and 

opening the door. It is true, that he is bound in duty to 
admit you at any hour, and that you are not bound to 
give him any thing; but if you have entered in this way 
once or twice, without properly greeting his itching palm, 
the consequence is, that on the next and all sulisequent 
occasions, you may ring half an i.our before the grumbling 
Hausmeister deigns to hear, and another before he con- 
descends to answer your thankless summons. It is the 
same thing at ten o'clock ; the outer gate must be shut, 
whatever revelry may be going on within. It is a police 
regulation, and the police is watchful." 


The public edifices of Vienna are insignificant, for this city 
has hitherto made but small advances in elegant architec 
ture. The Burg, or palace of the Emperor, is an ill-defined 
irregular mass, made up of many badly-assorted patches, 
and exhibiting, in its successive additions, a type of the 
gradual steps by which its lordly masters have risen up to 
their present station among the rulers of the earth. The 
part used as the residence of the sovereign is called 
Schweitzerhof, and is an extensive building, forming two 
sides of a quadrangle ; but its appearance is not very 
striking. It is sunovinded bv a number of edifices, which 
are devoted to \arious purposes, and comprises, among 
others, the Imperial Library, the Chancery of the Empire, 
the Imperial Riding-school, and the Theatre attached to 
the Palace. 

The great hall of the library is in the form of a cross. 
The domes and ceiling are adorned with jiaintings, and 
supported by pillars, in imitation of variegated marble. In 
the centre is a statue of the Emperor Charles the Sixth, 
the founder of the edifice ; and round the walls are ranged 
marble statues of princes of the Austrian House, inter- 
spersed with antique busts. The number of volumes is 
said to exceed :!0(l,000, besides 12,000 manuscripts, and 
0(100 specimens of the early printing of the fifteenth 
century. The collection of manuscripts is particularly 
valuable, and comprises several very interesting produc- 

Besides these buildings we may mention the palace of 
the Archduke Charles, and the gorgeous edifice which 
belongs to Prince Lichtenstcin. Indeed, the private 
mansions of its nobles are among the most interesting 
buildings in Vienna, where those devoted to public pur- 
poses, and occu])ied by the various boards and chanceries, 
which compose the administration of the einjiire, are 
seldom worthy of the smallest notice. There are two 



arsenals: that of the city, and that styled the imperial 
one; in the former is preserved the head of Kara Mustapha, 
who conducted the sieiie of 1683, and was strangled the 
following year at Belgrade, hy the Sultans order; and in 
the latter, are to be seen memorials of many great men, — 
the armour of the celebrated crusader, Godfrey of Bouillon, 
of Frederic Barbarossa, and the Emperor, Charles the 
Fifth ; the leathern jacket, and the hat worn by the great 
Gustavus Adolphus, when he was killed at the battle of 
Liitzen, with the helmet of the renowned Prince Eugene 
of Savoy, the friend and brother-warrior of the famous 
Marlborough. It also contains the balloon which was 
used by the French at tlie battle of Fleurus in 1793, 
and which greatly contributed to their success on that 


The established religion of Vienna, as of the whole 
Austrian Empire, is the Roman Catholic ; but every other 
form of worship is permitted. That the like toleration 
was not at all times practised by the rulers of this 
state, our readers may easily gather from what has been 
said of the history of the city; for we have there noticed, 
with what eagerness they persecuted those among their 
subjects, who refused to comply with the ordinances of the 
Romish Church, and how, more than once, they were 
made to tremble for the safety of their very capital, 
because they would oppress with goading cruelty, men too 
enlightened to adopt the fallacies of their creed. Bohemia, 
an important part of the Austrian dominions, was often 
conspicuously engaged in the religious struggles of Ger- 
many : and when we mention the name of this fallen 
kingdom, our readers will at once call to mind, that it is 
the country which gave birth to John Huss and Jerome of 
Prague, — those noble martyrs to the primitive faith, who 
following in the steps of WicklifFe, contributed much by 
their preachings and their deeds, to pave the way for the 
more successful efforts of Luther, who came after them. 

In the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Hussites 
and Protestants were banished by the emperors from their 
territories ; and even the celebrated Maria Theresa, who 
reigned with her son, from 1 740 to 1 780, had the barbarity 
to hunt down the few that yet lurked in the fastnesses 
of the mountains. But in 1781, an edict of general tole- 
ration was passed by Joseph the Second, and since then 
the number of open dissentients from popery has become 
greater. Vienna has had its share of the increase, but the 
number of protestants it contains is small ; and it would 
seem that they are not so much Austrians by birth, as 
families who have come down from the Protestant States of 
Germany to settle in this capital. 

The Viennese are strictly observant of the forms of 
their religion ; and their devotion extends even to super- 
stition. This is more especially the case with the lower 
elasses, who place great reliance upon the efficacy of their 
pilgrimages to shrines, which their ignorant credulity 
regards as peculiarly sacred, because of the possession of 
some relic, to which tradition ascribes much holy virtue, 
L or for any other reason equally valid. Mariazell is the 
P spot more particularly favoured as the scene of their 
worship; and of their excursion to this place we shall speak 


ViKN.VA contains fifty-seven Roman Catholic churches ; 
one Lutheran, and one C.alvinist meeting-house ; four 
Greek chapels, and two synagogues. But only few of these 
edifices can boast of much architectural beauty, or richness 
of decoration. 

At the head of them is the Cathedral church of St. 
Stephen, a beautiful Gothic structure, with a steeple re- 
markable for its symmetry and height. It was begun by 
the first Duke of Austria, before the middle of the twelfth 
century ; in the earlier half of the thirteenth it was twice 
burnt down, and then rebuilt in its present form. Such, 
however, was the small extent of the city at that period, 
that it then stood consiilerably without the walls, although 
it is now in the very centre of the space they enclose. 
This church is the largest in Germany ; its greatest length 
if 355 feet, and its extreme breadth 230. The height of 
the roof exceeds 80 feet, and that of the tower is said to be 
more than 450 ; an elevation surpassed only by that of 
the Miiiister at Strasburgh, which is upwards of five 
hundred feet. 

The external appearance of this cathedral is sombre and 

majestic, although its grandeur is somewnat impaired, by 
the gaudy glitter of some painted tiles which cover the roof. 
It is also considered faulty, with respect to the la\ish pro- 
fusion of stone-work which encumbers every corner, and 
greatly impairs its lightness as well as the effect of the 
intended ornaments. But these defects are unseen from 
within; there all is grand and simple, spacious and 
gloomy. We have observed, that the spire is celebrated 
for its height and beauty. It is remarkable, also, for 
being inclined from the perpendicular, an aberration 
which is said to have been produced by the shock of the 
Turkish cannon, in the famous siege of 1 683, and to have 
been increased by the French bombardment, in 1809. 
The bell which this tower supports, was cast in 1711, by 
the directions of the Emperor Joseph the First, from the 
metal of the guns which the affrighted Mussulmans left 
behind them, when compelled to fly before John Sobieski 
and the Poles. It exceeds ten feet in heignt, and thirty in 
circumference ; and weighs upwards of seventeen tons, 
exclusive of the clapper of thirteen hundred weight. 

Next to the cathedral in the scale of beauty, the 
Viennese place the church of St. Charles Borromaeus, 
which they account to be uncommonly magnificent ; but 
our countrymen speak rather contemptuously of its gilded 
frippery, as offensive to all pure taste. It stands in the 
suburb of Wieden, and was begun in 1715, by the Emperor 
Charles the Sixth, in obedience to a vow which he had 
made, when his capital was ravaged by an epidemical 
disease, two years before ; but it was not finished until 
1737. It is a large massy building, with two wings, and a 
small portico of six Corinthian columns, which is sur- 
mounted b) an oval dome, cased in glittering copper. 
But a most important part of the pile, consists in two tall 
Doric pillars, standing isolated, one on either side of the 
approach to the portico, and rearing their high heads 
almost to a level with the lantern that crowns the cupola. 
Their diameter exceeds thirteen feet, and they are adorned 
each with bas-reliefs; those of the one, representing the 
Life and Death, and those of the other, the deeds of the 
Saint; and both preserving their continuity, by ascending 
in a spiral band, till at length they reach the capitals. 
Each of the columns is hollowed within, and a winding 
staircase leads to its summit, which is ornamented with 
f )ur imperial eagles of gilt bronze, and surmounted by a 
small lantern-like piece of architecture. The interior of 
the church possesses some pictures and sculptured marbles ; 
and the dome is painted. We give a view of this edifice, 
in page 128. 

The church of the Capuchins is remarkable, but not for 
its beauty. In one of its low dark vaults, are the tombs of 
all the members of the Imperial House of Austria, begin- 
ning with Matthias. The coflins are of bronze, oblong in 
form, and very large ; those of the earliest date quite 
plain and simple, others wrought with trophies »nd achieve- 
ments. But these mausoleums do not contain the whole 
remains of the Imperial family ; for, in accordance with a 
curious custom, their hearts are deposited in one of the 
chapels of the barefooted Augustines, and their er trails in 
the cathedral of St. Stephen. 

Besides these edifices, we may mention the church of 
St. Peter, an unworthy imitation, on a poor scale, of its 
great namesake at Rome, and built in 1702. There is 
also a chapel " Des Ecossais," in which is to be seen the 
monument of the gallant Stahremberg, who held out so 
bravely against the Turks in 1683. 


yiENN.\ has the reputation of being an extremely dissolute 
city ; and, although some travellers are less unmeasured 
than others in their condemnation, all agree in representing 
it as one in which the public morals are much degraded. 
In this respect it resembles some other continental capi- 
tals, wherein similar despotic governments, and similar 
superstitions, necessarily exert a baneful inHuence upon 
the conduct of individuals, and upon the character of 

The Viennese are distinguished by an unbounded love 
of pleasure, and a strong indisposition to all exertion, 
either of the body or the mind. Their fondness, indeed, for 
amusements is sufficiently attested in the fact, that, with 
scarcely a fifth part of the population of London, Vienna 
supports five theatres, two of which are Imperial property. 

One curious characteristic of this people is, a most inor- 
dinate and silly love of high-sounding titles and forms of 
address, which, being conceived to give dignity and con 



lequence to the person who assumes tliem, are, therefore, 
most scrupulously exacted. A clerk in a public office, 
perhaps on a salary of £40 a year, must not be styled 
a simple clerk, but an " Imperial and Royal Clerk," in 
such and such an " Imperial and Royal Office." The 
Baron Reisbeck, who travelled through Germany in the 
assumed character of a Frenchman, notices this practice 
when recounting the difficulties which he experienced, 
l)efore he could provide himself with a suitable habitation. 
He says, " the first room I saw was up four pair of stairs ; 
the looks of it did not displease me, but as soon as I heard 
that the owner was a Gncidige Uerr, (Gracious Sir,) I 
said, in French, to my lacf|uais, " Away, I will have 
nothing to do with a Gnddige Herr, who has half of his 
hired habitation to underlet." The Baron did not succeed 
in his search until he had had a plentiful choice of titled 
landlords, among whom one bore the designation of your 
Honour, and another was styled an Excellence, or rather a 


Whex Mr. Russell tells us, that so long as it is granted 
to the Viennese, " that they can produce among their 
citizens, a greater number of decent performers on the 
violin or piano than any other capital, they have no earthly 
objection to have it said, that they can likewise produce a 
greater number of blockheads and debauchees," he enables 
us to form a correct estimate as to the state of the arts 
and scieilces among them. Of all accomplishments, a 
proficiency in music holds the highest place in their esti- 
mation ; and in the practice of this art, they are certainly 
as much above the other nations of Europe, (the Italians 
excepted,) as they are below them in all more solid and 
useful pursuits. Dr. Burney speaks of Vienna as the 
imperial seat of music in Germany, and the names of 
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, who have all lived within 
its walls, present a host of excellence unequalled in any 
Single city of Europe. 

Haydn was born at a village only fifteen leagues from 
Vienna, and it was while acting as one of the children of 
the choir at St. Stephen's that he began that long course 
of unwearied application, which supplied the natural 
defects of his genius, and laid the sure foundation of his 
subsequent success. And after he had left the cathedral 
establishment, it was while engaged with two friends, in 
the prevalent amusement of serenading the beauties of 
Vienna, during the fine summer-evenings, that he first 
brought his talents into notice. The anecdote is curious. 
The young musicians had distinguished, among the ladies 
whom they honoured, the wife of Bernardini Curtz, — the 
proprietor and harlequin of one of the theatres in the 
capital. As they were executing a serenata, for her grati- 
fication, Curtz, struck with its originality, came out into 
the street, to ask who composed it. " I did," replied 
Haydn boldly. " How ! you ! at your age ! ' cried the 
astonished harlequin. " One nmst make a beginning 
some time or other," was the rejoinder. " This is droll I 
come up stairs !" exclaimed Curtz ; and soon after this 
incident, Haydn rose in reputation considerably. 

The practice of music is very general in Vienna, and 
much attention is paid to it, even by children, who learn 
nothing else. There is a musical society consisting of 
nearly two thousand members, mostly amateurs; and none 
are admitted as active members but those who are able to 
take a part, vocal or instrumenta., in a concert. There 
are besides, 175 pupils, constantly receiving instruction in 
this art ; their establishment possesses a rich musical 
library, and a collection of the ancient and modern instru- 
ments of all nations. 

Vieima has much in it to interest a lover of the fine-arts. 
The Imperial collection of paintings at the Belvedere 
I'alace, consists of nearly 1400 pictures, comprising many 
excellent specimens of the Italian, German, and Flemish 
Schools. It is particularly rich in the works of Rubens, 
to which, nearly two whole apartments are devoted, out of 
the twenty-three, in which the entire collection is deposited ; 
there are, also, many productions of Titian's pencil, and 
several of Vandyke's and Albert Durers. The gallery of 
the Duke of Sachsen-Tcschen is a noble one; it contains 
above 12,000 original drawings, and 129,000 engravings, 
among which are works by almost every artist of repu- 
tation. There are a great number of drawings by 
Raphael : 1 59 specimens by Albert Durer, and 50 sketches 
uf Claude's. But the great value of this splendid cabinet. 

does not consist only in its extent, or its ncnness in the 
works of any particular master ; the completeness of its 
series, renders it inestimable, as a means of illustrating 
the history of the arts of design and engraving. Besides 
these collections, there are several others belonging to the 
wealthy nobles, whose palaces adorn Vienna. An-.-ong 
them, we may particularize those of the I'rinces Ester- 
hazy, Liechtenstein, and Schonborn, with that of Count 

The Imperial gallery of antiques is deposited in a part 
of the palace, and is worthy of notice; for though the 
statuary which it contains is insignificant, it can boast of 
an almost inimitable collection of cameos and intaglios, 
and an extensive cabinet of coins and medals. The whole 
of this collection, with that of natural history, has been 
three several times carried down the Danube from Vienna, 
into the district of Hungary called Bannat, in order to 
preserve it from the grasp of the French. 

The general state of science in Vienna is represented as 
far from flourishing. The number of scientific men is small, 
and, with the exception of a small medical society, there is 
no institution through the means of which they can keep 
up an intercourse with each other. Medicine and the 
various branches of natural history are tha sciences most 
cultivated ; but in the former of these pursuits, Berlin is 
fast rising above Vienna. The Botanical Garden is a good 
one, and derives encouragement from the taste of the reign- 
ing emperor for botany. The Imperial Museum of Natural 
History is important, and we shall speak more particularly 
of it. 


This establishment occupies several large rooms in the 
emperor's palace, and embraces within it specimens illus- 
trative of all the different branches of natural history. 
The Zoological portion has been collected and arranged 
with great care and expense, and is very extensive. A 
part of its riches has been derived from the menagerie of 
Schonbrunn, which was, at one time, much better stored 
with rare animals than it now is ; and no opportunity has 
been neglected of adding to its value, by the purchase of 
entire collections or of individual specimens. The minera- 
logical specimens are deposited in cases arranged in a suite 
of rooms, but only the more splendid ones are displayed ; 
they amount in number to 100,000, and comprise a great 
many of the most magnificent and valuable that are known 
to exist; but the pride of the collection is a celebrated 
opal, from the mines of Kaschan, which weighs seventeen 
ounces, and is supposed to be the largest mass of this 
mineral ever found. There is also a curious series of 
aerolithes, or meteoric stones, some of which fell in the 
Austrian dominions. 

The hereditary possessions of the Imperial House have 
always been famed for their richness in mines ; and to this 
circumstance, as well as to the care of the government, we 
may attribute the formation and excellence of this splendid 

TRADE, S^-c. 

The trade and manufactures of Vienna are considerable : 
60,000 individuals, it is calculated, find employment in 
difTerent branches of productive industry. The manufac- 
tures embrace silk, gold and silver lace, ribbons, hardware- 
goods, and philosophical instruments. The manufacture 
of iron and steel forms indeed an important one in Austria, 
and great progress has been made in it, especially since the 
war. In Vienna itself much ornamental steel-work is 
executed ; but this branch of industry is yet far from 
having attained the same perfection as in England, or 
even Prussia; nor is the use of iron so extensive, nor is 
it applied to works of such importance as with us. The 
porcelain of Vienna is well known. The manufacture is 
situated in the suburb of Rossau, and employs above 
600 workmen, of whom more than 100 are painters. The 
china is of a strong texture, but is not equal to that of 
Berlin, in elegance either of form or ornament. 

Vienna is the chief seat of the silk manufacture in 
Austria ; but this branch of industry, once so flourishing 
here, has much declined of late. Previous to the French 
Revolution it employed, in the capital alone, 6000 looms, 
but before 1803 it had been reduced onc-third. Many most 
beautiful articles of rich and embroidered silk are to be 
found in the palaces of the wealthy, or the Museum of the 
Emperor; but the looms are chieUy employed in weaving 



shawls, to the manufacture of which all the females of the 
capital give great encouragement. 

The long-celebrated skill of the Germans, os workers in 
WTX)d, is beautifully displayed in the household furniture of 
Vienna, which, for perfection of finish, and the skilful 
adaptation of the diflFerent species of indigenous wood, may 
»ie with the cabinet-wares of any metropolis in Europe. 

Where the manufactures are thus extensive there must 
necessarily be a considerable trade. The exjKirts of Vienna 
fUmish cargoes to 6000 boats, and merchandise for nearly 
2,000,000 of wagons. The Danube, which is navigable 
both above and below the city, forms the great outlet. 


The University of Vienna was founded in 1437 ; it was for 
a considerable time under the superintendence of the 
.Jesuits, but in I'ofi was taken from them, and reorganized 
by the celebrated Von Swieten, the body-physician to the 
Empress MariaTheresa. It possesses an anatomical Theatre, 
an Observatory, a Library, with other establishments, and 
is provided with forty-five professors, besides extra teachers. 
There are also in this city three Gymnasia, in which the 
studies prescribed by law are Religion, Composition, 
Classics, Natural History, Arithmetic, Geography, History, 
and the Elements of Mathematics. As preparatory to 
the gymnasium, there is a normal school, whose object is 
instruction in Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic, at the 
yearly charge of ten llorins ; and for the poor, there are 
sixty schools, where the same advantages may be obtained 
at a much smaller cost. In 1821, a Protestant institution 
was established for the education of young Protestants, 
who, as subjects of Austria, were prohibited from studying 
m foreign universities ; but it is said to be of a low cha- 
racter. There is, likewise, the Theresiau Academy for 
the education of the sons of the Catholic nobility, to the 
benefits of which foreigners are also admitted ; it is under 
the saperintendence of a director, and has twenty-one 
professors, ten masters of the modern languages, and 
several tutors. Independent of all these establishments, 
there are Imperial Medical Academies, Imperial Military 
Academies, and an Imperial Academy of Oriental Lan- 
guages, which has produced several distinguished scholars; 
and finally, what is styled the Imperial Polytechnic Insti- 
tute, designed to instruct tradesmen, and to teach, by 
means only of professors and their lectures, all trades and 


Travellers speak with applause of the freedom from 
beggars which the streets of Vienna exhibit. This is to 
be attributed at once, to the strictness of the police, and 
the effect of the charitable establishments. The General 
Hospital is a magnificent institution, calculated to accom- 
modate 2000 patients. But its efficiency is not well kept 
up, nor are its advantages bestowed with the same 
liberality as in our own country. The patients are divided 
into four classes, of which, the last only are admitted 
gratis ; the others pay according to a certain scale, propor- 
tioned to the accommodations which they receive. The 
building forms six or seven open squares, and the patients 
are lodged in long wards and private chambers. Four 
physicians, and four surgeons, reside in the hospital, and 
give lectures as well as attend to the patients. There is,, a Foundling Hospital, and an Asylum for the insane, 
which contains 300 patients, whose condition. Dr. Bright* 
says, is far from being as comfortable, as in many similar 
establishments which he Itas visited ; and besides these, 
are institutions for the education of the Deaf and Dumb, 
as well as of the Blind, which, however, are not very 


The police of Vienna, has long been celebrated as one of 
the most perfect in existence. But its functions are very 
different from those assigned to the body which bears the 
»ame name in our own metropolis. They are far more 
extensive; for they comprise not only the ordinary duties 
of repressing crime, and watching over the public health 
»nd convenience, but, also, others of a political kind, such 
as taking care that no one presumes to discuss too freely 
affairs of state, or to canvass the measures of the govern- 
ment, in a spirit at all opposed to the wishes of the govern- 
ment. Foreigners, and especially those who come from 
countries where liberal opinions are in any degree prevalent, 

• fn his Tour in Lower lliin;;ary. 

are, therefore, kept under a vigilant inspection, and any 
offensive conduct on their part, is instantly followed by 
an order to quit the city. Our countrymen, from the 
licence of speech which they enjoy in England, are 
especially apt to indulge in the imprudence of expressing 
themselves on what they see and hear, in a manner not at 
all pleasant to the ruling authorities, and thus they fre- 
quently are compelled to pay the penalty, which rightly 
attaches to so unwise an act. But there is one abominable 
part of this police system, and that the one contributing 
most to its efficiency, which all honourable minds must 
e.xecrate ; we mean, the employment of spies, whose scope 
of office is not confined to coffee-houses, and other places 
of public resort, but extends even to the retirement of 
domestic life. The Viennese themselves assert, that not 
only men, but women, too, and men and women of rank, 
are in the pay of the secret police. These informers are 
quick to denounce, and the consequences of a denunciation, 
(to a native,) " are" says Mr. Russell, " secret arrest, 
secret imprisonment, and an unknown punishment." 
Many are the stories told in illustration of the working of 
this system, and of the mysterious power which it gives 
the police. 


To so pleasure-loving a people as that of Vienna, a plen- 
tiftil fund of recreation and amusement is indispensable. 
We have already observed that the ramparts of the city 
are solely applied to the purpose of promenading ; they are 
a place of much resort, especially on Sundays and holidays, 
when, immediately after the last mass, they are crowded to 
suffocation with people of all ranks. The glacis is also 
partly planted and laid out into alleys ; but the most cele- 
brated spot is the Prater, which is said to be the finest 
public park in Europe. It occupies the eastern part of "the 
Leopoldstadt, and is thus surrounded on three sides by 
water. From the entrance, the principal drive extends 
about half a .mile in length ; it is divided by rows of trees 
into five alleys, the two outer of which are appropriated to 
pedestrians, the two next to horsemen, and the inner one to 
carriages. Beyond its termination is the more rural part 
of the Prater ; there the wood becomes thicker, the alleys 
are no longer straight and formal, but wind their way 
irregularly along, till they stop at the shady banks of the 
Danube itself. On either side of the drive stretches a 
verdant lawn, which is plentifully strewn with coffee-houses, 
and, therefore, much fi-equented by the listless pedestrians, 
who seat themselves under shady awnings, or on the green 
herbage beneath a clump of trees, enjoying in idle gaiety 
their ices, coffee, and cigars. 


There are few European capitals, whose environs present 
a more smiling and varied picture than Vienna. On the 
north of the city are the islands of the Danube, on the 
west, rises the lofty summit of the Calemberg, from which, 
Sobieski rushed down upon the Turks in. 1683; to the 
south, are seen the mountains of Styria, covered with 
forests and vineyards; while on the east, towards Hungary, 
stretch boundless plains, along which tlie eye ran^jes, 
unobstructed, to the very horizon. At the distance of a few 
miles from the capital, stands the Imperial Palace of 
SchiJnbrunn, which was occu])ied by Napoleon, as his 
head-quarters, in 1805 and 1809. It was built by Maria 
Theresa, who used it as her favourite residence ; for it is 
delightfully situated, commanding on one side a view of 
the suburbs, and on the other, of the hills of Hungary. 
The building is extensive ; and the gardens are very beau- 
tiful and well laid out. They contain a mSnagerie, and a 
rich collection of exotic plants. It was in this palace that 
the young Na]K)leon used generally to reside ; and it was 
here that he died, on the 22n(l (}f July, in the year 1832. 

Laxembourg, or haxendorf, as it was formerly called, 
is another place of imperial resort in the neighbourhood of 
Vienna. The Emperor has there two residences. The 
one is an ordinary palace w ith a theatre, and other appen- 
dages ; the other is a sort of model of an ancient baronial 
castle, furnished with moat, drawbridge, portcullis, arched 
gateway, court, hall, chapel, chambers, dungeons, walls, 
passages, galleries, communications, tunets, and every 
other proper accompaniment, for a fortress of the olden 
time. The interior is fitted in a similar style; and at a 
little distance, there is a regular tilting-ground, where, 
occasionally, mock tournaments have been held for the 
emperor's amusement. 

About fifteen miles to the south of Vienna, stands the 



•mall town of Baden, so famed for its mineral waters, and 
the efficacy of their medicinal properties, in the cure of 
certain diseases. Its inhabitants amount in number to 
only 3000; but during the summer and autumn, the season 
of resort to the batlis, it has frequently more than 5000 

The mode of bathing is curious. *' I visited the baths," 
says the a\ithor of the Ramble in Germany, " and to 
my astonishment, saw persons of both sexes in the bath 
together, and moving about up to their necks in the 
steaming water. A lady with the unwetted curls of a 
handsome head, carefully dressed, was of the party, and a 
fat old gentleman, who, liis face alone appearing above the 
water, looked like a red and rising moon. This practice 
seems, and is indecent ; although custom has so apparently 
reconciled visiters to it, that they walk about in the water 
as grave, as calm, as unconcerned, as if they were prome- 
nading in a garden. The bathing-dresses are large, long, 
and fastened high up on the neck." 


Among the many observances which are practised by the 
Roman Catholics of Vienna, none is more worthy of notice 
than their annual pilgrimage to the celebrated shrine 
of Mariazell, in Upper Styria. Thither, thousands of 
superstitious people repair from the capital and otlier 
cities in the empire, eagerly hoping to secure the bless- 
ings of heaven, by paying tlieir devotions to a picture 
of the Madonna, one similar to those modern Greek paint- 
ings, which are so common in Italy, and which are there 
ascribed, by the believing multitude, to the pencil of the 
evangelist Luke. Tradition asserts, that it once adorned 
the rude church of a Styrian priest, who fleeing before 
the incursion of a Tartar horde, bore it piously away 
through the mountains in search of a refuge, till his 
wanderings were arrested by a vision of the Virgin her- 
self, who commanded him to deposit his precious charge 
upon a neighbouring tree, and proclaim aloud to all the 

world, her never-ceasing readmess, through it, to recewe 
the prayers of the faithful. On the spot thus sanctified, 
arose in an after-age, the church now standing. It is in 
the hot season of the year, in the month of or 
August, that this long and laborious journey of fifty miles 
is undertaken, as though by tliat means, it might be ren- 
dered more meritorious and acceptable. The day is fixed 
by an imperial ))roclamation attached to the great gate of 
St. Stephen's, and early on the appointed morning, the 
intended pilgrims are there assembled, clad in befitting 
garb, with long staves, and bare feet. They first hear 
mass, and then they proceed upon their way. 

The road through which they pass is thickly bestrewn 
with chapels and images of saints and virgins, and, if tra- 
vellers tell truth, with an equal profusion of brandy-booths. 
These things become more numerous the nearer the pilgrims 
approach to the place of their destination ; and the sinal". 
mean town of Mariazell itself is scarcely more than a col- 
lection of inns and ale-houses, not of the very best kind. 
To the church the zealous devotees repair, as the sacred 
depository of the rude, ugly picture, to which they fondly 
ascribe such holy virtue. In the centre of this building 
stands a small chajMil, faintly illumined by one lamp, and 
glistening with gold, and silver, and precious stones, 
guarded from the profane touch by a fence of silver 
railing. Round this the pilgrims kneel and pray, and 
then they range themselves about a pillar, bearing on its 
top a stone image of the virgin, the women kneeling in an 
inner circle, and the men standing in one without, and all 
calmly await in silent patience till the sun shall ha\e gone 
down behind the mountains ; and when he has at last sunk 
from view, they begin, with rich musical voices, to sing 
their evening chant to the Blessed Virgin, the women 
moving slowly on their knees round the pillar, while the 
men stand motionless, bending only at intervals to tire 
sacred image. 

But whatever may be the beauty or the interest belong 
ing to such scenes, it is lamentable to see such superstitious 
practices usurping the place of true religion. 


LONDON: Published by JOHN WII.L1.\M I'AKKKU. WEsrSirnvr ; a.Tl sold by all HooksoUcre. 


m 113. 



5™ 1834. 

V Price 
} One Penny. 



■\ ;u.. IV. 



I April b. 

Peterborough, an ancient, but small city, seated 
on the river Nen, in Northamptonshire, received its 
name from an abbey founded in early times, and 
dedicated to St. Peter. We are told, that in the Nen 
was a gulf of measureless depth, called JMedeswell, 
near which, was the town of Medcshumsiead, so called, 
probably, from its having been the homestead belong- 
ing to a very extensive mead, or meadow, in the 
neighbourhood. » 

The l)eauty of the spot, then abounding in rich 
woods and water, was so attracti\e to Peada, King of 
the Mercians, (the county of Northampton being in 
the dominion of Mercia during tlie Heptarchy,) that 
he resolved to found an abbey there. In the com- 
mencement of this work, in the year G55, he is said 
to have laid stones of such enormous size, that eight 
yoke of oxen could scarcely draw one of them ; but 
on his death, his brothers, Wolfere and Etheldred, and 
his sisters, Kyneburga and Kyneswitha, continued it. 
The part, however, which King Wolfere took in this 
matter, appears to have been instigated by a motive 
similar to that, which led Offa, another Mercian King, 
to erect the abbey of St. Albans ; namely, as a pen- 
ance, and to assuage the horrors of a guilty conscience. 
The story is curious as a specimen of early English 
superstition, and may be shortly told. 

Wolfere, was a wicked heathen monarch : he had 
two sons, Wolfade and Rufine. The former was fond 
of hunting ; and one day, when engaged in his favourite 
sport, he pursued a deer which sought refuge at a 
fountain, near the cell of the famous St. Chad. The 
saint observing the poor creature weary and worn, 
covered her with leaves, thinking from her appearance, 
that some extraordinary event would presently occur, 
oS arising from the adventure. Presently came Prince 
Wolfade, inquiring for the deer. But St. Chad 
rephed, ' that he was a keeper not of beasts, but of 
the souls of men ; and that Wolfade was as a hart 
at the water-brooks, providentially sent to the foun- 
tain of living water.' Further conversation ensued, 
which ended in the baptism of the Prince, and soon 
afterwards of his brother, at the fountain. These 
Christian brothers became, through the artful repre- 
sentations of their father's steward, objects of hatred 
to the king, who cruelly murdered them while at 
])rayer. Having subsequently confessed his crime to 
to St. Chad, Wolfere was ordered by him, to repair the 
ruined temples of God, and to found new ones. In 
the west cloister of the monastery, was formerly to 
be seen this story represented in painted glass, 
and near the place was a well, where, as tradition 
.said, St. Chad hid the deer: — a subject of consi- 
ilerable interest for a picture. Thus Wolfere and his 
family having finished and richly endowed the abbey, 
dedicated it to St. Peter in CG4. 

After flpurishing for above 200 years, it shared 
the fate of the rest of the town, and fell a victim 
to the fury of the Danish invaders in 870. This 
devastation was accompanied by an act of savage 
N'iolenee, in accordance with the spirit of the times. 
The monks, together with those of Croyland*, in 
Lincolnshire, who had fled to Medeshamstead after 
tlie destruction of their own monastery, defended 
the abbey for some time, but the Danes, bursting 
in, slaughtered them all. The abbey then lay in 
ruins for nearly a century, when it was restored by 
King Edgar, at' the earnest entreaty of his queen, and 
nf Athelwold, Bishop of Winchester. On the occasion 
of its renewal with all its former privileges, in the pre- 
sence of Edgar, Archbishop Dunstan, Bishop Oswald, 
&o., large offerings of land and money were made ; and 

• See Saturday Magazine Vol. III., p. 148. 

at this illustrious assembly, the name of the place 
was changed from Medeshamstead to Burgh ; and 
on account of the beauty and wealth of the establish- 
ment, as well as its pleasant situation, it was called 
Gildenburr/h ; but, owing to its dedication to St. Peter, 
it obtained the title of Peterborough. It is said 
that, in those days, the abbey was so renowiied and 
honoured, that whoever went thither to pray, whether 
King, lord, bishop, or abbot, put off his shoes at the 
gate, and entered barefoot. 

The tenth abbot, Elsine, is only celebrated for 
being " inquisitive after relics, with which he was 
very industrious, to enrich his monastery." We 
have before us a list of these precious morsels, but 
are not inclined to offend or weary our reader 
with detaihng them ; " But," it is added, " whilst 
Elsine was careful abroad for relics, his abbey at 
home sustained loss in more real endowments, for 
Hoveden, in Yorkshire, was wrested from it." It 
appears, too, that about 1070, during the government 
of a careless and unpopular abbot, who had been 
placed there by William the First, the Danes, under 
Sweyn, burnt down the city, entered the abbey, and 
carried away all the treasures : — " precious things, 
such as there were not the like in all England!" To 
prevent the recurrence of such an invasion, the abbot 
erected a fort on the north side of the abbey, called 

We now come to the period in which the present 
Cathedral was begun. John de Sais, one of the 
monks of Sais, in Normandy, was elected abbot, 
and, in 1118, he laid the foundation of a new 
church, which was sufficiently finished in 1143, 
under Abbot Martin de Vecti, for the relics to be 
removed, and the monks introduced. At the cere- 
mony were present, not only many of the clergy, but 
several barons and knights; and then they exhibited 
the arm of St. Oswald f, and other treasures. King 
Stephen went to sec this wonder-working arm, and 
presented it with a ring. 

By the " nev) church" just mentioned, we are 
not to understand the whole of the present struc- 
ture, but so much of it as forms the present choir 
and altar, as it appears that William de Watervile, 
who succeeded in 1155, added two cross aisles; 
and Benedict, prior of the Holy Trinity, Canterbury, 
built the nave, from the lantern to the west end of 
the church ; but not the grand west front, of which 
we shall speak presently. " Our Norman architects," 
says Bentham in his History of Ely Cathedral, 
" laid out their whole design at first : they usually 
began at the east end, or choir part : when that was 
finished and covered in, the church was consecrated : 
they then carried on the remainder of their plan 
themselves, as far as they were able, leaving the rest 
to be completed by their successors." 

In 1200, the abbey being in a state of poverty. 
King John appointed Acharius, prior of St. Alban's, 
as abbot, by whose care it began again to flourish, 
and in 1238 it contained one hundred and ten monks. 
It is supposed, that soon after this, the beautiful west 
front of the Cathedral was erected. By the west 
front must be understood, the two square towers, 
with lofty pinnacles, at the north-west and south- 
west corners; the three noble Gothic arches which 
stand between these towers ; and the portico between 
the arches and the west-wall of the church. Within 

t A Christian king of Northumberland, famous for his charity to 
the poor ; in the performance of one of liis charitable acts, a Scotch 
bishop, wlio was present, is alleged to have taken him by the right 
hand, and exclaimed, " May this hand never grow old." And 
though Oswald was afterwards defeated by Penda, King of Mercia, 
and torn in pieces, the arm (so says the legend) was preserved and 
brought to I'etei'borougli 




each of the two towers is a winding staircase, leading 
up to the roof of the portico. That portion of the 
Cathedral, called the new building, which is at the 
east end, is considered the most modern portion 
of the whole, the date of it heing about a.d. 1500. 

From this brief sketch of the history of the 
building, we proceed to describe the dimensions of 
the principal parts : — p^^ 

Length of the whole Cathedral, measured on the 

outside 479 

Length of the Transept from north to south . . 203 

Breadth of the west front 156 

Height of the Lantern 150 

Height of each Gothic arch at the west front . . 82 

We may imagine the Cathedral now completed, 
when Cardinal Wolsey kept his Easter at Peter- 
borough. On Palm-Sunday he carried his palm, 
the monks attending him in solemn procession. 
On the Thursday following he kept his Maundy*, 
washing and kissing the feet of fifty-nine poor 
people, to each of whom he gave twelve-pence, 
canvass for a shirt each, shoes, and red herrings, and 
on Easter-day, he went in state, sung the higli mass 
himself, and concluded with a benediction on the 

In 153-1, Chambers, the then abbot, together with 
the prior and thirty-seven monks, professed, under 
their hands and seals, fidelity and oljedience to King 
Henry the Eighth, and acknowledged him to be 
supreme head of the church of England. Peter- 
borough then became a bishopric, and its abbey a 
Cathedral. In the following year, Catherine, the first 
wife of the cruel and capricious Henry, died at 
Kimbolton Castle, Huntingdonshire, and was buried 
on the north side of the choir, nearly opposite to the 
bishop's throne. In the same Cathedral, in July 
1587, by torch-light, the remains of the unhappy 
Mary Queen of Scots were consigned to their narrow 
bed, on the south side of the choir. She had been 
executed at Fotheringay Castle, about ten miles from 
Peterborough, in the February preceding. After 
the body had remained in its tomb for about 
twenty-five years, her son, James the First, removed 
it to Westminster Abbey; but the superb monument 
raised to her memory continued entire. 

From this time, until 1643, nothing remarkable 
happened relative to Peterborough Cathedral: but 
then it experienced the mischiefs arising from the 
desolating principle, or rather, want of all principle, 
of men, " who turned faith into faction, and religion 
into rebellion. " The town of Croyland, about ten 
miles off, declared for King Charles the First, and 
was garrisoned. The parliamentary army, in passing 
through Peterborough, about the middle of April, 
broke into the church, pulled down the organ, and 
trampled upon its fragments; they quickly entered 
the choir, and tore up the Prayer-books. Then 
fell the seats, the stalls, and the wainscot, and a noble 
screen exquisitely carved. The soldiers, after firing 
at every thing that was beautiful, defaced the monu- 
ments and grave-stones ; and having forced their 
way into the Chapter-house, tore the ancient ma- 
nuscripts in pieces, particularly those that had seals 
appended to them, ignorantly mistaking deeds and 
charters for popish bulls. " Thus," says an eye- 
witness, " was a fair and stately building, in the 
course of about a fortnight, stripped of its orna- 
mental beauty, and made a ruthful spectacle, a very 
chaos of desolation and confusion; scarcely any 
thing remaining but bare walls, broken seats, and 
shattered windows." 

• Maunily from Maiwd, a basket, containing the gifts. For an 
account of the ceremonies on Maundy 'J'hursday, see Saturday 
Uagaiine, Vol. II., p. HO. 

In the year of the happy restoration, ItifiO, the 
Dean, who had been for a long period exiled in 
France, was reinstated in his office, and the p^-ebeudal 
stalls were again occupied by the clergy of the 
established Church. The sums that have been occa- 
sionally expended since that time, by the Dean and 
Chapter, upon this noble edifice, are large and 
liberal, and they appear to have been judiciously 
applied. It is now in excellent repair; and, with 
the exception of the painted windows demolished by 
the Oliverian rabble, it may be said to be looking as 
splendid as ever. . 


To call the folks to church in time . 
When mirlh and joy are on the wing 
When from the body parts the soul . 

I chime. 
I ring; 
1 toll ! 


We had heard of a tree, the juice of which is a 
nourishing milk ; it is called the Cow-Tree ; and 
we were assured that the negroes of the farm, who 
drink plentifully of this vegetable milk, consider it as 
a wholesome aliment. All the milky juices of plants 
being acrid, bitter, and more or less poisonous, this 
assertion appeared to us very extraordinary ; but we 
found, by experience, during our stay at Barbula, that 
the virtues of the palo de vaca had not been exagge- 
rated. This fine tree rises like the broad-leaved star- 
apple*. Its oblong and pointed leaves, tough and 
alternate, are marked by lateral ribs, prominent at 
the lower surface, and parallel ; they are some of 
them ten inches long. We did not see the flower : 
the fruit is somewhat fleshy, and contains one, or 
sometimes two nuts. When incisions are made in 
the trunk of the Cow-Tree, it yields abundance of a 
glutinous milk, tolerably thick, destitute of all acri- 
mony, and of an agreeable and balmy smell. It was 
offered to us in the shell of the tutumo, or calabash- 
tree. We drank considerable quantities of it in the 
evening before we went to bed, and very early in the 
morning, without feeling the least injurious effect. 
The ropincss of this milk alone renders it a little 
disagreeable. The negroes and the free people, who 
work in the plantations, drink it, dipping into it their 
bread of maize or cassava. The major domo of the 
farm told us, that the negroes grow sensibly fatter 
during the season when the palo de vaca furnishes 
them with most milk. 

This juice, exposed to the air, presents at its sur- 
face, perhaps in consequence of the absorption of 
the atmospheric oxygen, membranes of a strongly 
animalized substance, yellowish, stringy, and resem 
bling a cheesy substance ; these membranes, separated 
from the rest of the more aqueous liquid, are elastic, 
almost like caoutchouc ; but they undergo, in time, 
the same phenomena of putrefaction as gelatine. 
The people call the coagulum that separates by the 
contact of the air, cheese ; this coagulum grows sour 
in the space of five or six days, as I observed in the 
small portions which I carried to Nueva Valencia. 

This extraordinary tree appears to be peculiar to 
the Cordillera of the coast, particularly from Barbula 
to the lake of Maracaybo. Some stocks of it exist 
near the village of San Mateo, and in the valley of 
Caucagua, three days' journey east of Caraccas. At 
Caucagua, the natives call the tree that furnishes 
this nourishing juice the Milk -Tree, Carbol de leche.J 
They profess to recognise, from the thickness and 
colour of the foliage, the trunks that yield the most 
juice, as the herdsman distinguishes, from externa* 

• Chrysophyllum cuinito. 




[April 5, 

signs, a good milch cow. It seems, according to 
Mr. Kunth, to belong to the Sapota family *. 

Amid the great number of curious phenomena 
which have presented themselves to me in the course 
ot my travels, I confess there are few which have so 
powerfully affected my imagination as the aspect of 
the Cow-Tree. On the barren flank of a rock grows 
a tree, with coriaceous and dry leaves ; its large 
woody roots can scarcely penetrate into the stone ; 
for several months in the year not a single shower 
moistens its foliage ; its branches appear dead and 
dried ; but when the trunk is pierced, there flows 
from it a sweet nourishing milk. It is at the rising 
of the sun that this vegetable fountain is most 
abundant; the blacks and natives are then seen 
hastening from all quarters, furnished with large 
bowls to receive the milk, which grows yellow, and 
thickens at its surface ; some empty their bowls near 
the tree itself, others carry the juice home to their 
children. We seem to behold the family of a shep- 
herd, who distributes the milk of his flock. 

Humboldt's Personal Narrative. 

* The Sapota is a genus of trees, (Hemndria Mmogyxia,) 
anciently called Achras, commonly translated the Wild Pear, of 
which four species are enumerated in M\\ir\!i's Miller. 1st, Mam- 
mee Sapota, otherwise called, Nippled Sapota, or the American 
Marmalade, from which a marmalade is made like that of qumces. 
It is planted in the gardens in most of the West India Islands. 
2nd, Common Sapota, with a fruit larger than a quince, of a delicate 
mellow taste. AH the tender parts are full of a milky juice, ex- 
tremely harsh, and bitterish: but the fruit though full of this while 
young, is very sweet and agreeable when it ripens. 3rd, Cloven- 
flowered Sapota. All the herbaceous parts of lliis tree are milky. 
Cultivated in Malabar, the fruit of which is of the size and form of 
the olive, succulent, of a sweetish acid flavour. 4th, IVillow-lemed 
Sapota. No part of the tree is milky; called in Jamacia, White 
Buily Tree, or Galimeta-wood: it is reckoned good timber 

The cultivation of flowers is, of all the amusements of 
mankind, the one to be selected and approved as the most 
innocent in itself, and most perfectly devoid of injury or 
annovance to others: the employment is not only con- 
ducive to health and peace of mind, but, probably, more 
good-will has arisen, and friendships been founded, by the 
intercourse and communication connected with this pur- 
suit, than flora any other whatsoever : the pleasures, the 
testacies of the horticulturist, are harmless and pure; a 
streak, a tint, a shade, becomes his triumph, which though 
oflon obta>ied by chance, are secured alone by morning 
care, by evening caution, and the vigilance of days: anem- 
plov, which, in its various grades, excludes neither the opu- 
lent nor the indigent, and teeming with boundless variety, 
affords an unceasing excitement to emulation, without con- 
tention or ill-will. Journal of a Naturalist. 

A Scotch Highlander was taken prisoner by a tribe of 
Indians, his life was about to be sacrificed, when the chief 
adopted him as his son. They carried him into the inte- 
rior ; he learnt their language, assumed their habits, and 
became skilful in the use of their arms. After a season, 
the same tribe began their route to join the French army, 
at that time opposed lo tlie English. It was necessary to 
pass i)ear to the English lines during the night. Very 
early in the morning, and it was spring, the old chief 
roused the young higlilander from his repose : he took hira 
to an eminence, and pointed out to him the tents of his 
countrymen. The old man appeared to be dreadfully 
agitated, and there was a keen restlessness in his eye. 
After a pause ; " I lost" said he, " my only son in the 
hattle with your nation ; are you the only son of your 
father? and do you think that your father is yet alive?" 
The young man r»plied, "I am the only son of my father, 
and I hope that my father is yet alive." They stood close 
to a beautiful magnolia in full blossom. The prospect was 
grand and enchanting, and all its charms were crowned by 
the sun, which had fully emerged from the horizon. The 
old chief, looking steadfastly at his companion, exclaimed, 
" Let thy heart rejoice at the beauty of the scene ! to me 
it is as the desert; but you are free; return to your coun- 
trymen, revisit your father that he may again rejoice, when 
he sees the su rise in the morning, and the trees blossom 
in the spring !"' — Colton. 

How Uke the existence of a squirrel in a cage, is that of a 
gossip, particularly that of the regular notorious gossip in 
a country town. The squirrel sleeps well, wakes at a certain 
hour, eats his accustomed food, takes his accustomed exer- 
cises in that twirling thing, which always goes the same way, 
and which he cannot get out of; the squirrel expects, and 
takes with much pleasure the offered nut or fruit, which is 
to him, what a piece of news is to the gossip, and then he 
goes quietly to his bed, when his usual quantity of food 
and exercise is taken, and wakes next day to a repetition 
of the same. And what does the gossip do more? The 
squirrel acquires no new ideas in the day, nor, I fear, does 
the gossip ; but we do not expect a squirrel to gain ideas ; 
we do expect it from human beings ; for we know that they 
have duties to perform, and souls to be saved, whether they 
know it or not ; know it, I trust they do, but then they 
forget it. The mournful truth is, they have so long 
accustomed themselves to idle away life, and pass it in 
long talks, (as the savages say,) which can do no one any 
good, and must do positive harm, that they are likely to 
remain what I have called them, nearly incorrigible ; with 
them, alas! all inquiries are external; they know not what 
it is to commune with the secret heart; they are well read 
in the defects of others, but they never think of trying to 
discover their own. Therefore, they must continue to 
saunter fioiri street to street, from the club to the coffee- 
room, from one house to another, and from shop to shop, 
in weary succession, like the squirrel in its ever-circling 
wheel, the pages of their passing hours bearing no cha- 
racter fit to be handed down by recording time to eternity, 
a burden often to themselves, and wholly useless, if not 
wearisome, to others. 

Alas ! poor squii-rel ! but still more pitiable gossip ! for 
the squirrel knows not his privations, but gossips must 
occasionally be conscious of theirs. They must know from 
the little mind that remains to them, that idleness produces 
listlessness ; want of regular occupation, weariness; and 
that with increasing years, comes increasing irritability, 
the result of conscious uselessness, and the want of those 
resources which enliven others. 

Gossips are, indeed, a pitiable race ; and to the young 
gossip, who may not be wholly incorrigible, I recommend a 
perusal of the following admirable admonition. "Let any 
man pass an evening in listless idleness, or even in 
reading some silly tale, and compare the state of his mind 
when he goes to sleep, or gets up the next morning, with 
its state some other day, when he has passed some hours 
in going through the proofs, by facts and reasoning, of 
some of the great doctrines in natural science, learning 
truths wholly new to him, and satisfying himself, by 
careful examination, of the grounds on which known truths 
rest, so as to be not only acquainted with the doctrines 
themselves, but able to show why he believes them, and 
to prove before others, that they are true, and he will find 
as great a difference as can exist in the same being ; the 
difference between looking back upon time improperly 
loasted, and time spent in self-improvement. He will 
feel himself, in the one case, listless and dissatisfied, in the 
other, comfortable and happy ; in the one case, if he does 
not appear to himself humbled, at least he will not have 
earned any claims to his own respect ; in the other case, he 
will enjoy a proud consciousness of having by his own 
exertions become a more wise, and, therefore, a more 
exalted creature.'" Detraction, by Mrs. Opie. 

Wisdom and Integrity. — Wisdom without innocency is 
knavery: innocency without wisdom is foolery: be there- 
fore as wise as serpents, and innocent as doves. The sub- 
tilty of the serpent instructs the inno(*ncy of the dove: the 
innocency of the dove corrects the subtilty of the serpent. 
What God hath joined together, let no man separate. 


Domestic Peace. — It is a pleasant sight to see every 
thing smooth and smiling within the same walls. To have 
no separate interests, no difficulty of humour, no clashing 
of pretensions to contest with : where every body keeps to 
his post, moves in his order, and endeavours to make him- 
self acceptable ; where envy and contempt have no place, 
but where it is a pleasure to see others pleased. 

However unfortunate we may think ourselves, yet let us 
remember there is an Eye watching over us ; it is a hea- 
venly will, not blind fate, that guides t'ne world. 




JpoN our road, we met an Arab with a Goat, which 
he led about the country to exhibit, in order to gain 
a liveUhood for itself and its owner. He had taught 
this animal, while he accompanied its movements 
with a song, to mount upon Uttle cylindrical blocks 
of wood, placed successively one above the other. 
In this manner the goat stood, first upon the top of 
one cylinder, then upon the top of two, and after- 
wards of three, four, five, and six, until it remained 
balanced upon the summit of them all, elevated 
several feet from the ground, and with its four feet 
collected upon a single point, without throwing down 
the disjointed fabric whereon it stood. The practice 
is very ancient. 

Nothing can show more strikingly the tenacious 
footing possessed by this quadruped, upon the jutty 
points and crags of rocks ; and the circumstance of 
its ability to remain thus poised, may render its 
appearance less surprising, as it is sometimes seen in 
the Alps, and in all mountainous countries, with hardly 
any place for its feet upon the sides, and by the 
brink of most tremendous precipices. 

The diameter of the upper cylinder, on which its 
four feet ultimately remained, until the Arab had 
ended his ditty, was only two inches; and the length 
of each cylinder was six inches. The most curious 
part of the performance occurred afterwards ; for the 
Arab, to convince us of the animal's attention to the 
turn of the air, interrupted the da capo: as often as 
he did this, the goat tottered, appeared uneasy, and, 
upon his becoming suddenly silent in the middle of 
his song, it fell to the ground. Clarke's Travels. 

In a note, Dr. Clarke writes, Sandys saw this 
in Grand Cairo. " There are in this city, and have 
beene of long, a sort of people that do get their 
livings, by shewing of feates with birds and beasts, 
exceeding therein all such as have bin famous amongst 
us. * * * I have seen them make both dogs 
and goates to set their foure feet on a little turned 
pillar of wood, about a foot high, and no broader at 
the end than the palm of a hand: climing from one 
to two set on the top of one another; and so to the 
third and fourth : and there turn about as often as 
their masters would bid them." Sandys's Travels. 

And again. " On the cliffs above hung a few 
goats; one of them danced, and scratched an ear 
with its hind foot, in a place where I would not have 

stood stock-still, — ' for all beneath the moon.' " 

Gray's Letter to Wharton. 

One important feature of Ireland, hitherto passed 
over in a vague and general style by all writers, 
consists in the great number of islands scattered 
round her shores; in most of which, the Irish 
language is generally, in many, almost exclusively, 
spoken. The extreme length of Ireland, is 306 
miles, its extreme breadth 207, and, speaking loosely, 
the circumference is about 880 miles. " The sinuous 
line of its sea-coast, however, exclusive of such parts 
as lie within estuaries, or above the first good 
anchorage in every harbour, but inclusive of the 
river Shannon, as far as the tide reaches, and the 
shores of Bantry Bay, Dunmanus Bay, and Kenmare 
river, will, if accurately followed through all its 
windings, be found to measure 1737 miles. In this 
line, there are not fewer than one hundred and thirty 
harbours, and places where ships may anchor for 
a tide, or find shelter. Round the coast of this fine 
country, and including her inland lakes, the number 
of islands and islets cannot be calculated at less 
than six hundred. In Clew Bay alone, on the west 
coast, the islands, islets, holms, and rocks, above the 
surface of the water, have been rated, I think, as 
high as three hundred, which, if they were planted, 
would cause this inlet of the sea, to exceed in pic- 
turesque beauty, any thing of the kind in Europe. 
In Strangford Lough, on the east coast, there are 
fifty-four islands, small and great, known by parti- 
cular names, besides many others nameless. As to 
inland lakes, to say nothing of Lough Coirrib, Lough 
Ree, or Lough Deirgeart, from the centre of an island 
in Lough Erne, called Ennismacsaint, may be seen 
twenty-seven islands in view at once. 

Close upon our native shore, (yet as devoid of all 
the calm and profitable satisfaction which books 
afford, as if they had lain in the bosom of the 
Pacific,) here it is, that as far as Christianity is con- 
cerned, our own countrymen have seen Sabbath after 
Sabbath pass silently away, from one year's end to 
the other, — no church-going bell — no gatherings of 
the people to hear the sweet sounds of divine mercy, 
or, as the native Irish say, " the story of peace ;" 
they have for ages lived and died amidst one un- 
broken famine, not, indeed, of bread and water, but 
of hearing the word of the Lord. 

Of those Islands, at least one hundred and forty 
were inhabited twelve years ago. Some were very 
small: seventeen contain only one familv in each • 



[April 5, 

and ten, not more than three in each ; but some are 
large, and the aggregate population of the whole, 
amounted to not less than 43,000 souls. 

I will mention a few particulars of only two of 
them. Raghhn, Rathlin, or Ratherin, the Rienea of 
Pliny, the Ricinea of Ptolomy, about six miles dis- 
tant from the north coast of Antrim, is nearly five 
miles long, and three and a half in extreme breadth, 
it abounds with some curious arrangements of 
Basaltic pillars, similar to those of the Giants' Cause- 
way *. It affords a considerable quantity of sea- weed 
for kelp, and where cultivated, produces excellent 
barley. A religious establishment was founded here, 
in the sixth century, by Columba, but in 790, it was 
ravaged by the Danes. The attachment of the 
natives to their little island is extreme, and one of 
their worst wishes to any neighbour who has injured 
them is, that he may end his days in Ireland t- 
Raghlin is memorable as the retreat of Robert Bruce 
of Scotland. It was here that he planted his 
standard, and obtained some aid from the native 
Irish, before he proceeded to the Hebrides. Dr. 
Francis Hutchinson, Bishop of Down and Connor, 
who published an Irish almanack, and a defence of 
the ancient historians, with application to the history 
of Ireland and Great Britain, in the year 1712, 
procured for the inhabitants of this island, a trans- 
lation of the Church Catechism into Irish, with the 
English annexed. It was printed at Belfast, but in 
the Roman letter, and the orthography of both 
languages was interfered with, which was not a 
judicious step ; I know not whether a single copy of 
the Raghlin Catechism remains in Ireland. 

Tory, about ten miles or more off the coast of 
Donegal, but united to the parish of Tullaghabigly, 
is about three miles long, and one broad. The name 
of this island is thought to be of Runic etymology, 
and Thor-eye, now corrupted into Tory, denotes that 
it was consecrated to Thor, the Scandinavian deity, 
who presided over desolate places. The inhabitants 
are imacquainted with any other law than that of 
their old Brehon code. They choose their own chief 
judge, and to his mandate, issuing from a throne of 
turf, the people yield a ready obedience. Round a 
tower and church built by Columkill, there is a grave- 
yard, to which peculiar sanctity is ascribed, and 
where no one is permitted to be interred. The 
people but very seldom come to the main land. 
About two years ago, a fishing-boat, containing 
seven or eight men, being driven by stress of weather 
into Ards Bay, on the coast adjoining, it turned out 
that not one of these men had ever been in Ireland 
before ! The trees belonging to Mr. Stewart of 
Ards, (the uncle of Lord Londonderry,) actually 
astonished them, and they were seen putting leaves 
and small branches in their pockets, to show on their 
return. In August, 1826, the poor people in this 
island, amounting to nearly 500, were visited by a 
great calamity. A strange and unforeseen storm set 
in from the north-west, which drove the sea, in 
immense waves, over the whole flat part of the 
island ; the waves beat even over the highest cliffs — 
all their corn was destroyed, their potatoes washed 
out of the ground, and all the springs of fresh water 
filled with that of the sea. Their deplorable situation 
constrained them to several communications with 
the main land — their condition, in other respects, 
then excited pity. It was then arranged that an Irish 
teacher be sent them, and so this frowning provi- 

• See Saturday Mai;azine, Vol. II., p. 50. 

t The Capers, or inhabitante of Cape Clear Island, chensh so 
ardent an attachment to their apparently desolate Island, that even 
temporary banishment to the mam land, has been found so severe a 
punishment, as effectuall to prevent crime. 

dence may prove to have been only the precursor of 
better days than they have ever seen. 

Innismurry, about six miles distant from the coast 
of Sligo, is but small, containing about 130 acres of 
shallow soil. In this isle there is a large image 
rudely carved in wood, and painted red, which the 
people call Father Molash, to which it is affirmed 
they pay devotion ; and they have an altar built of 
loose round stones, called "the cursing altar," to 
which they are said to apply, if any one has injured 
them. L. C. 

[Anderson's HistorwiH Sketches of the Ancieiit Native Irkh.^ 


In the latter end of 1831, some of the principal cliiefs of 
New Zealand, (in number, I believe, thirteen,) addressed a 
letter to the King, in which, after expressing their fears as 
to the designs of some foreigners who had visited their 
shores, (alliiding i)rincipally to the visit of a French 
corvette, which had lately touched at the Bay of Islands,) 
they proceeded to request, that his Majesty would appoint 
some person to reside amons^ them, as his representative, 
for the purpose of maintaining a friendly intercourse between 
King William and the New Zealanders ; and to keep in 
order some of his own subjects, convicts escaped from Port 
Jackson, or runaway seamen from the Whalers, who had 
stationed themselves near the Bay of Islands, and much 
troubled the natives. In reply to this, the government 
appointed Mr. James Busby, as Resident at New Zealand, 
and made him the bearer of his Majesty's answer. On 
Friday, May 17th, 1833, Mr. Busby left the ship; the 
Imogen, (with the usual salute of seven guns,) and accom- 
panied by Captain BlacKwood, and the greater part of the 
officers, landed at Parheah. We were received on our 
arrival by the Missionaries, who led us to the place where 
the chiefs were assembled to receive us. Three or four of 
the more aged cltiefs were sitting on the ground, and on a 
signal gi\en by one of them, the main body, consisting of 
about two hundred chiefs and warriors, who, likewise, were 
sitting on the ground, at the distance of eighty yards, arose 
suddenly, and rushed towards us with tremendous shouts : 
when close to us, they stopped and began their War Dance, 
in which they leapt about with surprising agility, and kept 
admirable time, accompanying the dance with loud shouts, 
and hideous contortions of visage, at the same time, bran- 
dishing above them their muskets and mevies. 

In this dance they followed the motions of a fugleman, 
who stood in the foremost ranks, and began first ; the 
others took the time from him. Having repeated the dance 
three or four times, for the violence of the exercise required 
intervals to gain breath, the chiefs sat down, and the 
people formed a ring : three or four chiefs made a short 
speech to welcome us. This being over, we all repaired to 
a space in front of the Missioiiary Chapel. A table was 
placed, at which Mr. Busby and Captain Blackwood sat, 
with the officers and Missionaries on either side of them. 

The people stood around in a circle, leaving a clear space 
in the front of Mr. Busby for the chiefs. Mr. Busby then 
read a letter from Lord Goderich, written by the king's 
command, first in English, and Mr. H. Williams, the 
senior Missionary, translated it into the New Zealand 
tongue. The letter was to this effect. That his majesty 
was happy to inform them, that their fears were groundless: 
that he had sent Mr. Busby to reside as his representative 
among them, as they had wished: that he hoped they 
would behave amicably towards him; that he would exert 
himself, to prevent trouble arising to thera from the 
English convicts and sailors ; and that he would take 
measures to transport runaway convicts back again to 
New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land. Mr. Busby 
then read an address, which was, in fact, a commentary od 
the king's letter : this also was interpreted to them. After 
this, several of the chiefs successively speechified away, 
approved of Mr. Busby's arrival, and seemed to feel the 
advantages of an intimate union with Great Britain. But 
each chief wished Mr. Bushy to reside in his own district, 
and the eagerness with which each urged this, was highly 
amusing. Their method of speaking is very curious ; 
while talking, they keep running backwards and forwards 
in a straight line, and use a groat deal of action and 
gesture. Their speeches contain much repetition, and are 
very figurative. 





After tliey all had finished, Mr. Busby distributed 
presents of a blanket, and five pounds of tobacco, to about 
thirty of them, and this ceremony was followed by the 
more important one, the feast. This took place an hour 
and a half afterwards, and consisted of boiled potatoes, 
baked beef, and a mess of boiled flour, water, and sugar, 
of which the natives are very fond. The whole of it was 
conveyed into a grass-plat before Mr. Williams's house, by 
the natives who live about the Missionary establishment. 
The good things were piled up in the middle. The 
chiefs divided it out into as many portions as there were 
parties, and informed them by word of mouth, which was 
for each. On a given signal they all rushed forward, and 
seized their several portions, which they did not stay to 
eat, but carried away with them. The number of natives 
present was about 500, and 50 Europeans. All the officers 
after the ceremony went to Mr. WilUams's, where they had 
some refreshment. 

[Extracted from a Letter written on board H. M. Ship Imogen, 
dated Sydney, July 5tli, 1833.] 

Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from open day. 
He that walks in the sunshine, goes boldly forward by the 
nearest way ; ho sees that where the path is straight and 
even, he may proceed in security, and where it is rough 
and crooked, he easily complies with the ttirns, and avoids 
the obstructions. But the traveller in the dusk, fears more 
as he sees less ; he knows there may be danger, and there- 
fore suspects that he is never safe ; tries every step before 
he fixes his foot, and shrinks at every noise, lest violence 
should approach him. Wisdom comprehends at once the 
end and the means, estimates easiness or difficulty, and is 
cautious, or confident, in due proportion. Cunning dis- 
covers little at a time, and has no other means of certainty, 
than multiplication of stratagems and superfluity of sus- 
picion. The man of cunning always considers that he 
can never be too safe, and, therefore, always keeps himself 
enveloped in a mist, impenetrable, as he hopes, to the eye 
of rivalry or curiosity. Johnson. 

Op what infinite value to society is that tenderness, com- 
passion, and benevolence, which the Almighty has mer- 
cifully impressed on the female heart. It is a woman's 
exclusive gift ; it is the foundation of all her virtues ; the 
mainspring of her usefulness. Let her then daily con- 
sider the awful responsibility of such a gift ; let her 
consider it as amongst her most valuable possessions ; 
and solely employ it for the benefit of her fellow-creatures ; 
and more especially for the nursing, training, and educating 
the young of her own species : let her give her heart, her 
tenderness, her compassion, to the infant orphan, and the 
deserted child ; let her, in humble imitation of her great 
Master, become a teacher of the ignorant, and an instructor 
of babes ; and let her, like hira, fold in her arms the lovely 
emblems of those beings that form the kingdom of Hea- 
ven. Let her, with active zeal, bring little children to 
Christ, that he may bless them ; and though, under her 
fostering care no great legislator, prince, or prophet, may 
arise, a superior reward will await her laljours : that which 
is promised to those who save a soul from deatli. It will 
be her peculiar and happy lot, to rear good Christians and 
useful members of society ; and above all, blessed spirits, 
for eternal happiness in the communion of saints made 
perfect. Mrs. Kino. 

You are to consider that you are a Christian ; that no 
accident hapjiens to us without the Divine permission, and 
that it is the duty of a man and a Christian to submit. 
We did not make ourselves; but the same Power which 
made us, rules over us, and we are absolutely at his dis- 
posal; he may do witli us what he pleases, nor have we 
any right to complain. A second reason against our com- 
plaint is our ignorance; for, as we know not future events, 
8o neither can we tell to what purpose any accident tends ; 
and that «hich at first threatens us with evil, may, in the 
end, produce our good. You are a man, and, consequently, 
a sinner, and this may be a punishment to you for your 
sins ; indeed, in this sense it may be esteeme<l a good, yea, 
as the greatest good, which satisfies the anger of heaven, 
and averts that wrath which cannot continue witliout our 
destruction. Thirdly, our impotency in relieving ourselves, 
demonstrates the folly and absurdity of our complaints ; for 
whom do we resist, or against whom do we complain, but a 
power from whose shafts no armour can guard us, no speed 
can Uy, — a power which leaves us no hope but in submis- 

»iOn. FlELDtNO, 

VI. Freya, or Friga 

What profiteth the graven image that the maker thereof hath graven 
itl the molten image, and a teacher of lies, that the maker of his 
work trusteth therein, to make dumb idols^ Woe to him that saith 
to the wood. Awake I to the dumb stone. Arise! it shall teach! 
Behold, it is laid over with gold and silver, and there is no breath at 
all in the midst of it. But the Lord is in his holy temole: let all the 
earth keep silence before him. — Habakkuk ii. 18, 19, 20. 

In pursuing tliis subject, and noticing, as we proceed, 
the happy change that ensued in our land, from the 
grossest idolatry to Christianity, it is also interesting 
to trace the political rise of our Saxon ancestors, 
and to see from what small beginnings it has pleased 
Providence to raise large and populous nations. 
- Tlie infant state of the Saxon people, before their 
invasion of England, and when the Romans first 
observed them, showed no signs from which human 
sagacity, could have predicted greatness. They 
inhabited a territory on the neck of the Cimbrian 
Chersonesus, now Jutland, in Denmark. This 
small region contained those, whose descendants 
occupy the circle of Westphalia, the electorate of 
Saxony, the British Islands, the United States of 
America, and the British Colonies in the two Indies ! 
Such is the course of Providence, that empires the 
most extended and the most formidable, are found 
to vanish as the morning mist; while tribes scarcely 
visible, or contemptuously overlooked, like the springs 
of some mighty river, glide on gradually to greatness 
and importance. 

In our last paper on the Saxons and their Idols, 
we alluded to the influence exerted by the Romans, 
over the customs of the countries, to which their 
conquests had opened a way. This is illustrated by 
the case of Britain, when it was a Roman province, 
previous to the arrival of the Saxons. During the 
residence of the various Roman governors, the arts, 
as well as the luxuries of Rome, continued to be 
imported hither, so as greatly to alter the character 
and manners of the people. The Latin tongue was 
also, in some degree, used among the Britons; a 
circumstance which may account for the existence of 
many words of Roman growth in our language. 
But the retirement of these accomplished, though un- 
principled visitors, took place a. d. 448 ; soon after 
which, the Saxon invaders established themselves in 
this country, when a state of greater rusticity, perhaps, 
but greater virtue, succeeded. 

It is, indeed, curious to look back on the affairs of 
Britain before the arrival of the Saxons. The 
residence of the polished Romans in this country 
had produced a mighty change. Its towns were no 
longer barricadoed forests, as represented by Julius 
Caisar; nor its houses, wood cabins, covered with 
straw; nor its inhabitants naked savages, with painted 
bodies, or clothed with skins. It had been, for 
above three hundred years, the seat of Roman 
wealth and splendour. Roman emperors had reigned 
in Britain. The natives had built houses, temples, 
and market-places in their towns, and had adorned 
their dwellings with porches, galleries, and baths, 
and beautiful tessellated pavements. They had their 
advocates, orators, and poets. Of their towns, 
Caerleon, in Wales, and 'Yerulam, near St. Alban's, 
remain to this day as ruins, or rather shadows of 
former grandeur. Giklas, the most ancient British 
writer extant (a. d. 550,) after lamenting all the evil 
his countrymen had suffered from the Scots and Picts, 
and its own civil wars, mentions it as yet containing 
twenty-eight cities, and some well-fortified castles; 
and as fertile, and abundant in cattle and sheep 
The British workmen, also, were considered the best 



[April 5, 1834. 

builders, and were employed by the father of Constaii- 
tine the Great, in rebuilding Autun. 

With all their skill, however, in matters of art, 
the Romans had not been able to teach them the 
knowledge of the true religion. That conceited 
nation was itself plunged into the most shameful 
idolatry, and caught eagerly from other people, any 
fresh superstitions to add to its own. Proving, by 
their lamentable ignorance in this respect, that " the 
world by wisdom knew not God," they " forsook the 
fountain of living waters, and hewed them out 
cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." 

Among "the rabble," reckoned as deities by the 
Saxons, and " by the like foolery" allowed by the 
Romans, was the goddess Freya, or Friga, " who 
was made," in the words of Verstegan, " according as 
this picture here doth demonstrate." 


" In her right hand she held a drawn sword, and in her 
left a bow ; signifying thereby, that women as well as men 
should in time of need be ready to fight. Some honoured 
her for a god, and some for a goddess, but she was 
ordinarily taken rather for a goddess than a god, and was 
r<9- .ted the giver of peace and plenty, and maker of love 
krtd amity ; and of the day of her especial adoration, we 
vet retain the name of Friday ; and as in the order of the 
days of the week, Thursday cometh between Wednesday 
and Friday, so in the northern regions, where they made 
the . idol Thor, sitting or lying in a great hall upon a 
covered bed, they also placed on the one side of him the 
idol Woden, and on the other side the idol Fritra. Some 
do call her Freya, end say she was the wife of Woden, but 
she was called Friga, and her day our Saxon ancestors 
called dTrifft'Deaa, from whence our name, now of Friday, 
indeed cometh." 

A QUIET Rebuke from a Superior. — When Darius, 
King of Persia offered peace, with large advantages, to 
Alexander the Great, the latter declined the offer. Upon 
wliich Parmenio, (his chief counsellor,) said, " If I were 
Alexander I would accept the proposal." " So would I," 
replied Alexander, " if I were Parmenio." As much as to 
say, thou art not the man that I am. 

All desire of singularity had a sure enemy in Dr. .lohnson. 
Few people had a more settWd reverence for the world 
than he, or were less captivated by new modes of behaviour 
introduced, or innovations on the long-received customs of 
common life. One day he met a friend driving six small 
ponies, and stopped to admire them. " Why does nobody," 
said Johnson, "begin the fashion of driving six spavined 
horses, all spavined of the same leg? It would have a 
mighty pretty effect, and produce the distinction of doing 
something worse than the common way." He hated the 
modern way of leaving a company, without taking notice 
to the lady of the house that he was going ; and did not 
much like any of the contrivances by which ease has been 
lately introduced into society instead of ceremony, which 
had more of his approbation. The innocent amusements 
of society all found their advocates in Dr. Johnson, who 
inculcated, upon principle, the cultivation of those arts 
which many a moralist thinks himself bound to reject, and 
many a Christian holds unfit to be practised. 

" No person," said he, one day, " goes under-dressed till 
he thinks himself of consequence enough to forbear 
carrying the badge of his rank upon his back." And, in 
answer to arguments used against showy decorations of 
the human figure, he was once heard to exclaim, "Oh, let 
us be found when our Master calls us, ripping, not the lace 
off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our 
souls and tongues ! Let us all conform in outward 
customs, which are of no consequence, to the manners of 
those whom we live among, and despise such paltry dis- 
tinctions. Alas, sir," continued he, " a man who cannot 
get to heaven in a green coat, will not find his way thither 
the sooner in a gray one." Boswell's Life of Johnson. 

Folly and cunning divide mankind, yet they that are 
most crafty are the most cozened. They rob their neigh- 
bour of his money, and lose their own innocency ; they 
disturb his rest and their own conscience ; they throw him 
into prison, themselves into hell ; they make poverty his 
portion, damnation their own. Jeremy Taylor. 

The author of the following lines delights to see his fellow-labourers 
happy, and is convinced, that one way of being so, is to be 
content with their lot, and in love with their duty. His verses, 
ho«'ever humble, have a tendency to promote this. 



Now, wife and children, let's be gay. 

My work is done, and here's the pay : 

'Tw as hard to earn, but never mind it, 

Hope rear'd the sheaf, and peace shall bind it. 

Six days I've toild, and now we meet 
To share the welcome weekly treat, 
Ol toast and tea, of rest and joy. 
Which, gain'd by labour, cannot cloy. 

Come yo who form my dear fire-side. 
My care, my comfort, and my pride ; 
Come now, and lei us close the night. 
In harmless talk and fond delight 
To-morrow's dawn brings blessed peace 
And each domestic joys increase 
To him who honestly maintains 
That course of life which Heav'n ordains. 

For this, and every blessing giv'n, 
Thankful we'll bow the knee to Heav'n ; 
In God's own house our voices raise, 
With grateful notes of pray'r and praise. 

Sweet's the tranquillity of heart. 
Which public worship does impart. 
And sweet's the field, and sw'eet's the road. 
To him whose conscience bears no load. 

Thus shall the day, as God design'd. 
Promote my health, improve my mind. 
On Monday moining, free from pain, 
Cheerful I'll go to work again. 

Our life is but a lengthen'd week, 
Through which w ith toil for rest we seek ; 
And he whose labour well is past, 
A joyful Sabbath finds at last! 



PRICE Sixpence, and 
Sold bv all Bookiellera and Newsveuilen iu tbe Kinfdon. 



N9 114. 


12™ 1834. 

V Prick 
I One Pjsn.vy. 


Vol. IV. 




lAi'kii, lii. 

The French possessions on the west coast of Africa, 
extending from Cape Blanco to the mouth of the 
Gambia, having been restored at the General Peace, 
in 1814, an expedition, consisting of a frigate and 
three other vessels, was sent, in the month of June 
1816, to take possession of them. It was complete 
in all its parts, as the trench expeditions usually are, 
including men of science, artisans, agriculturists, 
gardeners, miners, &c., amounting, with the troops, 
to nearly four hundred persons, exclusive of the 
crews. The naval part was intrusted to M. de 
Chaumareys, who had the command of the frigate. 
La M/dttse, of forty-four guns. 

Owing to a very relaxed state of discipline, and 
ignorance of the common principles of navigation, 
this frigate was suffered to run aground on the bank 
of Arguin. Attempts were made to get her off, but 
it was soon discovered that all hopes of saving her 
must be abandoned, and that nothing remained but 
to concert measures for the escape of the passengers 
and crew. Some biscuit, wine, and fresh water, were 
accordingly got up and prepared for putting into the 
boats, and upon a Raft which had been hastily con- 
structed ; but, in the tumult of abandoning the 
wreck, it happened that the Raft, which was destined 
•o carry the greatest number of people, had the least 
share of the provisions ; of wine, indeed, it had more 
than enough, but not a single barrel of biscuit. 

There were live boats ; in the first were the 
Governor of Senegal and his family, in all thirty-five ; 
the second took forty-two persons ; the third twenty- 
eight ; the fourth, the long-boat, eighty-eight ; the 
fifth, twenty-five ; and "nj jolly-boat, fifteen, among 
whom were four children, and some ladies. The 
military had, in the first instance, been placed upon 
the raft — the number embarked on this fatal machine 
was not less than one hundred and fifty ; inaking, 
with those in the boats, a total of three hundred and 

On leaving the wreck, M. Correard, geographical 
engineer, attached to the expedition, who had volun- 
teered to accompany his men on the Raft, wishing to 
be assured that proper instruments and charts for 
navigating it had been put on board, was told by the 
captain that everything necessary had been provided, 
and a naval officer appointed to take charge of it : 
this naval officer, however, jumped into one of the 
boats, and never joined them. 

The boats pushed off in a line, towing the Raft, 
and assuring the people on board that they would 
conduct them safely to land. They had not pro- 
ceeded, however, above two leagues from the wreck, 
when they, one by one, cast off the tow-lines. It 
was afterwards pretended that they broke ; had this 
even been true, the boats might at any time have 
rejoined the Raft ; instead of which, they all aban- 
doned it to its fate, every one striving to make off 
with all possible speed. 

At this time, the Raft had sunk below the water to 
the depth of three feet and a half, and the people 
were so squeezed one againat another, that it was 
found impossible to move ; fore and aft, they were 
up to the middle in water. In such a deplorable 
situation, it was with difficulty they could persuade 
themselves that they had been abandoned; nor 
would they believe it until the whole of the boats 
had disappeared from their sight. They now began 
to consider themselves as deliberately sacrificed, and 
S'Wore, if ever they gained the shore, to be revenged 
of their unfeeling companions. The consternation 
soon became extreme. Every thing that was horrible 
took possession of their imaginations; all perceived 

their destruction to be at hand, and announced by 
their wailings the dismal thoughts by which they 
were distracted. The officers, with great difficulty, 
and by putting on a show of confidence, succeeded 
in restoring the men to a certain degree of tran- 
quillity, but were themselves overcome with alarm on 
finding that there was neither chart, nor compass, 
nor anchor on the Raft. One of the men had fortu- 
nately preserved a small pocket-compass, and this 
little instrument inspired them with so much con- 
fidence, that they conceived their safety to depend 
on it; but this treasure was soon lost to them; it 
fell from the man's hand, and disappeared between 
the openings of the Raft. 

None of the party had taken any food before they 
left the ship, and hunger beginning to oppress them, 
they mixed the biscuit, of which they had about 
five-and-twenty pounds on board, with wine, and 
distributed it, in small portions, to each man. They 
succeeded in erecting a kind of mast, and hoisting 
one of the royals that had belonged to the frigate. 

Night at length came on, the wind freshened, and 
the sea began to swell; the only consolation now 
was the belief that they should discover the boats 
the following morning. About midnight the weather 
became very stormy; and the waves broke over them 
in every direction. 

During the whole of this night, said the survivors, 
we struggled against death, holding ourselves closely 
to the spars which were firmly bound together. 
Tossed by the waves from one end to the other, and 
sometimes precipitated into the sea; floating between 
life and death; mourning over our misfortunes, 
certain of perishing, yet contending for the remains 
of existence with that cruel element which menaced 
to swallow us up ; such was our situation till break 
of day — horrible situation! how shall we convey an 
idea of it which will not fall far short of the reality I 

In the morning the wind abated, and the sea sub- 
sided a little ; but a dreadful spectacle presented 
itself — ten or twelve of the unhappy men, having 
their limbs jammed between the spars of the raft, 
unable to extricate themselves, had perished in that 
situation ; several others had been swept off by the 
violence of the waves : in calling over the list it was 
found that twenty had disappeared. 

All this, however, was nothing to the dreadful 
scene which took place the following night. The 
day had been beautiful, and no one seemed to doubt 
that the boats would appear in the course of it, to 
relieve them from their perilous state; but the 
evening approached, and none were seen. From 
that moment a spirit of sedition spread from man to 
man, and manifested itself by the most furious 
shouts. Night came on ; the heavens were obscured 
with thick clouds; the wind rose, and with it the 
sea; the waves broke over them every moment; 
numbers were swept away, particularly near the 
extremities of "the raft; and the crowding towards 
the centre of it was so great, that several poor 
wretches were smothered by the pressure of their 
comrades, who were unable to keep on their legs. 

Firmly persuaded that they were all on the point 
of being swallowed up, both soldiers and sailors 
resolved to soothe their last moments by drinking till 
they lost their reason. They bored a hole in the 
head of a large cask, from which they continued to 
swill till the salt water, mixing with the wine, ren- 
dered it no longer drinkable. Excited by the fijpies, 
acting on empty stomachs and heads already dis- 
ordered by danger, they now became deaf to the 
voice of reason; boldly declared their intention to 
murder their officers, and then cut the ropes which 




bound the Raft together : one of them, seizing an 
axe, actually began the dreadful work. This was the 
signal for revolt ; the officers rushed forward to quell 
the tumult, and the man with th*^ hatchet was the 
first that fell — the stroke of a sabre terminated his 

The passengers joined the officers, but the muti- 
neers were still the greater number; luckily they 
were but badly armed, or the few bayonets and 
sabres of the opposite party could not have kept 
them at bay. One fellow was detected secretly 
cutting the ropes, and immediately flung overboard; 
others destroyed the shrouds and halyards, and the 
mast, deprived of support, fell on a captain of 
infantry, and broke his thigh ; he was instantly 
seized by the soldiers and thrown into the sea, but 
was saved by the opposite party. A furious charge 
was now made upon the mutineers, many of whom 
were cut down : at length this fit of desperation 
subsided into egregious cowardice : they cried out 
for mercy, and asked forgiveness on their knees. It 
was now midnight, and order appeared to be restored ; 
but after an hour of deceitful tranquillity, the insur- 
rection burst forth anew: the mutineers ran upon 
the officers like desperate men, each having a knife 
or a sabre in his hand, and such was the fury of the 
assailants, that they tore their flesh and even their 
clothes with their teeth: there was no time for 
hesitation; a general slaughter took place, and the 
Raft was strewed with dead bodies. 

Some palliation must be allowed on account of 
their miserable condition; the constant dread of 
death, want of rest and of food, had impaired their 
faculties; nor did the officers themselves entirely 
escape. A sort of half-waking dream, a wandering 
of the imagination, seized most of them ; some 
fancied they saw around them a beautiful country, 
covered with the most delightful plantations; others 
became wild with horror, and threw themselves into 
the sea. Several, on casting themselves otT, said calmly 
to their companions, ' I am going to seek for assist- 
ance, and you shall soon see me back again.' 

On the return of day it was found, that in the 
course of the preceding night of horror, sixty-five of 
the mutineers had perished, and two of the small 
party attached to the officers. One cask of wine 
only remained. Before the allowance was served out 
they contrived to get up their mast afresh; but 
having no compass, and not knowing how to direct 
their course, they let the Raft drive before the wind, 
apparently indifferent whither they went. Enfeebled 
with hunger, they now tried to catch fish, but could 
not succeed, and abandoned the attempt. 

' It was necessary, however,' said the survivors, 
' that some extreme measure should be adopted, 
to support our miserable existence ; we shudder 
with horror on finding ourselves under the necessity 
of recording that which we put into practice ; we 
feel the pen drop from our hands ; a deadly cold- 
ness freezes all our limljs, and our hair stands on 
end. Readers, we entreat you not to entertain, 
for men already too unfortunate, a sentiment of 
indignation ; but to grieve for them, and to shed a 
tear of pity over their unhappy lot.' 

The ' extreme measure' was, indeed, horrible : the 
unhappy men whom death had spared in the course 
yf the night, fell upon the carcasses of the dead, and 
began to devour them. Some tried to eat their 
sword-belts and cartridge-boxes ; others devoured 
their linen, and others, the leathers of their hats; 
3ut all these expedients, and others of a still more 
loathsome nature, were of no avail. 

A third night of horror now approached; but it 

proved to be a night of tranquillity, disturbed only 
by the piercing cries of those whom hunger and 
thirst devoured. The water was up to their knees, 
and they could only attempt to get a little sleep by 
crowding closely together, so as to form an immove- 
able mass. The morning's sun showed them ten or 
a dozen unfortunate creatures stretched lifeless on the 
Raft; aU of whom were committed to the deep, with 
the exception of one, destined for the support of 
those who, the evening before, had pressed his 
trembling hands in vowing eternal friendship. At 
this period, fortunately, a shoal of Flying-fish*, in 
passing the Raft, left nearly three hundred entangled 
between the spars. By means of a little gunpowder 
and linen, and by erecting an empty cask, they 
-contrived to make a fire; and mixing with the fish 
the flesh of their deceased comrade, they all partook 
of a meal, which, by this means, was rendered less 

The fourth night was marked by another massacre. 
Some Spaniards, Italians, and negroes, who had 
taken no part with the former mutineers, now entered 
into a conspiracy to throw the rest into the sea. 
The negroes had persuaded the others that the land 
was close to them, and that once on shore, they 
would answer for their crossing Africa without the 
least danger. A Spaniard was the first to advance 
with a drawn knife; the sailors seized and threw 
him into the sea. An Italian, seeing this, jumped 
overboard; the rest were easily mastered, and order 
was once more restored. 

Thirty persons only now remained, many of whom 
were in a most deplorable state, the salt-water having 
entirely removed the skin from their legs and thighs, 
which, with contusions and wounds, rendered them 
unable to support themselves. The remains of the 
fish and the wine were calculated to be just enotigh 
to support life for four days; but in these four they 
also calculated that ships might arrive from St. 
Louis to save them. At this moment, two soldiers 
were discovered behind the cask of wine, through 
which they had bored a hole, for the purpose of 
drinking it; they had, just before, all pledged them- 
selves to punish with death whoever should be 
found guilty of such a proceeding, and the sentence 
was immediately carried into execution, by throwing 
the culprits into the sea. 

Their numbers were thus reduced to twenty-eignt, 
fifteen of whom only appeared to be able to exist for 
a few days; the other thirteen were so reduced, that 
they had nearly lost all sense of existence ; as their 
case was liopeless, and as, while they lived, they would 
consume a part of the little that was left, a council 
was held, and after a deliberation, at which the most 
horrible despair is said to have prevailed, it was 
decided to throw them overboard. 'Three sailors 
and a soldier undertook the execution of this cruel 
sentence. We turned away our eyes, and shed tears 
of blood, on the fate of these unfortunate men; but 
this painful sacrifice saved the fifteen who remained; 
and who, after this dreadful catastrophe, had six days 
of suffering to undergo, before they were relieved 
from their dismal situation.' At the end of this 
period, a small vessel was descried at a distance ; she 
proved to be the Argus brig, which had been 
despatched from Senegal to look out for them. All 
hearts on board were melted with pity at their 
deplorable condition. — ' Let any one,' say our unfor- 
tunate narrators, ' figure to himself fifteen unhappy 
creatures, almost naked, their bodies shrivelled by 
the rays of the sun, t/in of them scarcely able to 
move; our limbs stripped of the skin; a total change 

See Saturday Magaiiiie, Vol. IV., p. 103. 



LApril 12, 

in all our features; our eyes hollow and almost 
savage; and our long beards, whkh gave us an air 
almost hideous.' 

Such is the history of these unfortunate men ! Of 
the hundred and fifty embarked on the Raft, fifteen 
only were received on board the brig, and of these 
six died shortly after their arrival at St. Louis. 

Of the boats, the whole of which, as we have 
already stated, deserted the Raft soon after leaving 
the wreck, two only (those in which the governor 
and the captain of the frigate had embarked) arrived 
at Senegal : the other four made the shore in different 
places, and landed their people. The whole party 
suffered extremely from hunger, thirst, and the 
effects of a burning sun reflected from a surface of 
naked sand; but with the exception of two or three, 
they all reached Senegal. 

The governor, recollecting that the Mdduse had on 
board a very large sum of money, sent off a little 
vessel to visit the wreck; but as if, it should seem, 
that no one part of this wretched expedition should 
reflect disgrace upon another, with only eight days' 
provisions on board ; so that she was compelled to 
return, without being able to approach it. She was 
again sent out with twenty-five days' provisions, but 
being ill found in stores and necessaries, and the 
weather being bad, she returned to port a second 
time. On the third attempt she reached the wreck, 
fifty- two days after it had been abandoned ; but what 
were the horror and astonishment of those who 
ascended its decks, to discover on board three 
miserable wretches just on the point of expiring! 

It now appeared that seventeen men had clung to 
the wreck when the boats and the Raft departed; 
their first object had been to collect a sufficient 
quantity of biscuit, wine, brandy, and pork, for the 
subsistence of a certain number of days. While 
this lasted, they were quiet; but forty-two days 
having passed without any succour appearing, twelve 
of the most determined, seeing themselves on the 
point of starving, resolved to make for the land; 
they therefore constructed a raft, or float, which they 
bound together with ropes, and on which tliey set 
off with a small quantity of provisions, without oars 
and without sails, and were drowned. Another, who 
had refused to embark with them, took it into his 
head, a few days afterwards, to try for the shore; he 
placed himself in a hen-coop, dropped from the 
wreck, and at the distance of about half a cable's 
length from it, sunk to rise no more. The remaining 
four resolved to die by the wreck; one of them had 
just expired when the vessel from Senegal arrived; 
the other three were so exhausted, that a few hours 
more would have put an end to their misery. 

About the time when this dreadful event occurred, 
the Alceste frigate, which had been sent by the 
King of England with an ambassador on a special 
mission to the Emperor of China, was also wrecked*. 
But how different were the consequences in the case 
of the English ship to those which occurred in that 
of the M^duse. The two frigates were wrecked 
nearly about the same time — the distance from the 
nearest friendly port pretty nearly the same — in the 
one case all the people were kept together, in a 
perfect state of discipline and subordination, and 
every one brought safely home from the opposite 
side of the globe ; — in the other case, each seems to 
have been left to shift for himself, and the greater 
part perished in the horrible way we have just seen. 

[Abridged from the QuarUrly Review, 1817.] 

• An account of the wreck of the Alceste will be gnen in the 
present volume 


It is extremely difBcult to devise any means of 
conveying to the mind a correct idea of the magni- 
tude of the scale on which the Universe is con- 
structed ; of the enormous proportion which the 
larger dimensions bear to the smaller ; and of the 
amazing number of steps from large to smaller, or 
from small to larger, which the consideration of it 
offers. The following comparative representations 
may serve to give the reader, to whom the subject is 
new, some notion of these steps. 

If we suppose the Earth to be represented by a globe 
a foot in diameter, the distance of the Sun from the 
earth would be about two miles, the diameter of a 
sphere representing the Sun, on the same supposition, 
would be something above one hundred feet, and con- 
sequently his bulk such as might be made up of two 
hemispheres, each about the size of the dome of St. 
Paul's. The Moon would be thirty feet from us, and 
her diameter three inches, about that of a cricket ball. 
Thus the Sun would much more than occupy all tlic 
space within the Moon's orbit. On the same scale, 
Jupiter would be above ten miles from the Sun, and 
Uranus (Herschel's planet) forty. We see, then, how 
thinly scattered through space are the heavenly bodies. 
The fixed stars will be at an unknown distance, but, 
probably, if all distances were thus diminished, no 
star would be nearer to such a one-foot Earth, than 
the Moon now is to us, which is 240,000 miles distant 
from us. 

On such a terrestrial globe, the highest mountains 
would be about one eightieth part of an inch high, 
and, consequently, only just distinguishable. We may 
imagine, therefore, how imperceptible would be the 
largest animals. The whole organized covering of 
such an earth would be quite undiscoverable by the 
eye, except, perhaps, by colour, like the bloom on a 

In order to restore the earth and its inhabitants to 
their true dimensions, we must magnify the length, 
breadth, and thickness of every part of our supposed 
models forty millions of times ; and to preserve the 
proportions, we must increase equally the distance of 
the sun and of the stars from us. They seem thus 
to pass off into infinity; yet each of them thus 
removed, has its system of mechanical, and, perhaps, 
organic processes going on vipon its surface. 

But the arrangements of organic life which we 
can see with the naked eye are few, compared witli 
those which the microscope detects. We know that 
we may magnify objects thousands of times, and 
still discover fresh complexities of structure ; if wc 
suppose, therefore, that we thus magnify every 
member of the universe, and every particle of matter 
of which it consists; we may imagine that we make 
perceptible to our senses, the vast multitude of 
organized adaptations which lie hid on every side of 
US; and in this manner we approach towards an 
estimate of the extent through which we may trace 
the power and skill of the Creator, by scrutinizing 
his work with the utmost subtilty of our faculties. 

Those magnitudes and proportions which lea\." 
our powers of conception far behind — that ever- 
expanding view which is brought before us, of the 
scale and mechanism, the riches and magnificence, 
the population and activity of the universe — may 
reasonably serve to enlarge and elevate our concep- 
tions of the Maker and Master of all; to feed an 
ever-growing admiration of his wonderful nature ; 
and to excite a desire to be able to contemplate more 
steadily, and conceive less inadequately the scheme 
of his government and the operation of his power. 

L. C. 






These are three large obelisks, standing about half 
a mile south-west of Boroughbridge. They are irre- 
gular in form, and greatly worn by exposure to the 
weather, and are of very aucient origin. In the 
time of our famous antiquary Leiand, who began his 
travels through England, in 1536, there were four 
of these stones, but one has since fallen, or been 
pulled down *. The three now remaining, stand nearly 
in a line from north to south. The northernmost 
obelisk is eighteen feet high, and is supposed to 
weigh thirty-six tons; the centre stone, twenty-two 
feet and a half high, is estimated at thirty tons ; and 
the third, twenty-two feet four inches high, is also 
thought to weigh thirty tons. 

These extraordinary monuments of antiquity did 
not escape the notice of the greatest of all English 
antiquaries, Camden, who visited Yorkshire in 1582, 
and who imagined that they were compositions of 
sand, lime, and small pebbles, cemented together. 
He was probably deceived by their vast bulk, not 
conceiving it possible for human art to bring such 
masses of stone, each being a single block, from any 
long distance. But it is now well known that they 
are natural stones, of a kind common in the north 
of England, called the coarse rag-stone, or mill-stone 
grit; and it is fair to conclude, that they were 
brought from a quarry at Plumpton, near Harrowgate. 
Hargrove, in his History of Knaresboroxigh, in 
describing Plumpton, says, " One huge mass of rock, 
insulated by water, which measures near fifty feet 
in length, without a joint, shows the possibihty of 
finding obelisks here, even higher than those at 
Boroughbridge, which are believed to have been 
carried from hence, as being of the same grit." 

In the year 1709, the ground about the centre 
obelisk was opened to the width of nine feet. At 
first a good soil was found, and at about a foot deep 
was a quantity of rough stones and large pebbles; 
layers of these appeared, which were probably 
placed there, to keep it steady; beneath, was a 
strong and hard clay supporting the bottom of the 
obelisk, at above six feet below the surface of the 
earth. It has never been determined by what people 
or for what object these stones were erected, although 
the point has engaged the attention of many inge- 
nious men. Stukeley's idea is, that they were fixed 
by the Britons, long before the time of the Romans ; 

* Camden lUtes that one was displaced in hopes of finding money. 

he imagines, that in this place the Druids held u 
great yearly festival, like the famous Grecian games, 
and that these were the goals round which , the 
chariots were turned at the races. Another author 
suggests, that they were set up by the early Britons 
to the honour of their gods. But the opinions of 
Leiand, Camden, and Drake, seem to be better 
founded ; namely, that they were the work of the 
Romans, and raised to commemorate some important 
victory. The last mentioned writer remarks, " the 
foundations of these stones being laid with the same 
clay and pebble as the walls of Aldburgh, the 
ancient Isurium of the Romans, is a convincing 
proof of their being Roman monuments." 

Aldburgh is not a mile and a half distant from 
Boroughbridge, and when, in addition to the fact 
stated by Drake, we consider the facilities possessed 
by the Romans, for conveyance on their great military 
roads, together with their fondness for raising records 
to their own honour, we cannot but consider them as 
belonging to the time of the Romans. It is true 
that they bear no marks of Roman elegance, nor the 
traces of any inscription: yet these, if any such 
existed, may probably, have been worn away by time 
and the weather. Dean Gale had a notion that they 
•were originally those Mercuries described by the 
.ancients, which were usually placed where four ways 
met (as they did here,) and that the head on the' top 
of the stones had been displaced. Amidst so many 
theories on the subject of the Arrows, or Borotigh- 
bridge Obelisks, we will leave those of our readers, who 
are curious in such matters, to consult the authorities 
quoted; and, notwithstanding the title by which these 
stones are commonly known in the country, (the devil's 
arrows,) we are sure that they will agree in rejecting 
one ancient opinion, quaintly enough adverted to by 
Camden in his Britannia. " As for the silly story of 
their being those bolts which the devil shot at some 
cities hereabouts, and so destroyed them, I think it 
not worth while to mention it." 

At Rudston, about five miles from Bridlington, in 
the same county, is a similar obelisk, upwards of 
twenty-nine feet high. Its depth in the ground 
has been traced more than twelve feet without 
coming to the bottom. It stands forty miles from 
any quarry where this sort of stone is found, and 
neither history nor tradition has any record either of 
its date or of the cause of its erection. 



[Aprfl 12, 

It has been well said, " If yon would know the value 
of a guinea, try to l)orrow one of a stranger:" we 
would add, if you would know the value of Time, 
place yourself for a moment in imagination on the 
brink of eternity. Suppose some dreadful accident 
to have happened to you, by which your days ar« 
numbered ; that you are suddenly thrown upon a 
sick bed, and your physician tells yon, you have only 
a few days to live. Do you think that any desire 
would come upon you to borrow (if we may so 
express it) a few days more. If so, what would be 
your hope of obtaining them ? Or what your state 
of mind on finding that the riches of the whole 
world, were they at that moment under your control, 
could not purchase the boon for you, and that, 
consequently, you must go without it ? In the case 
of the guinea, you know that the diflicnlty is great, 
but you also know that there is a possibility, that by 
importunity and perseverance, you may succeed in 
obtaining the loan of half or a lesser jjortion, and 
so will not go without it altogether. Is it so with 
Time ? Oh, but you say, Time is altogether a 
different thing; our time is always our own, and as 
long as we have health and strength, it only rests 
with ourselves to lay it out in whatever way we 
please ; that is a matter which we can always 
control. Just so; and this is the point where we all 
err.' Did we but carry this great truth always in 
view, and not be satisfied with stopping here, but 
following it up in its consequences, we venture to 
predict, that the result would be very different to 
what it is. 

We will not now stop to inquire the relative pro- 
portion of value, which the two talents of Time and 
Money bear to each other ; it is sufficient for our 
present purpose, that it is in both cases very great, 
and as the value of one is sufficiently familiar to us, 
we will suppose that of the othei% to be at least equal, 
and we shall have no difficulty in illustrating the 
subject. Now, without going too deeply into the 
matter, we all know that the object of these being 
placed in our hands is, that they should be laid out 
in such a way, as to produce as large a return for 
the future as possible ; hence it happens, that every 
prudent man in making a purchase, considers first, 
what prospect is held out of making an advantage of 
his money, or, to speak in the common phrase, 
" what he will have to show for it." Again, in 
lending money at interest, he Mill not be satisfied 
with a lower rate, if he thinks he can obtain a higher, 
or he vnll even take usurious interest if he can get 
it; in short, his only desire is to make the most of 
his money, and the consequence is, that when the 
day of reckoning comes, and he is called upon to 
make good a loss, which has come upon him sud- 
denly, he has wherewith to pay ; he is not plunged 
into the difficulty of making an unsuccessful attempt, 
to borrow of a stranger to make up his deficiency, 
or of submitting to go to prison, as must be the 
case with an improvident man, whose conduct we 
will suppose to have been the reverse of what we 
have stated. 

Let us now apply this illustration to the case of 
Time : do you see no similarity in the two cases ? 
Your time you admit is, even with the busiest, to a 
certain extent, your own. Every one of us must 
allow that there are a thousand ways in which it 
may be laid out with a certainty of producing a 
return ; possibly, a usurious return. You are content, 
however, to know, that the means are always within 
your reach; it is a loan you can always make, 
whenever your interest or your inclination impels 

you to it; for the present you aie Luutent to live on 
the principal ; it will last your life, or at all events, 
when it is drawing to a close, it will be time enough 
for you to bestir yourself; the means are always at 
hand. But the day of reckoning comes unexpectedly ; 
it is, perhaps, heavy ; the amoimt to be made up is 
large ; the time short ; it may be (dare wc think it ! ) 
a few hours; you look into your account, and a 
frightful deficiency stares you in the face ; you have 
always imagined that at most you had only to 
answer for the omission of having neglected to lay 
out your talent in such a way as would have enabled 
you to meet your present deficiency; the appalling 
truth strikes you, for the first time, that you have 
done more. You have borrowed from eternity, and 
unconsciously incurred a debt which it is utterly out 
of your power to pay ; you have not only omitted to 
do that which you were required to do, but you have 
done that which it would take a long and laborious life 
to repair; and you have a few short hours to do it ! 

Think of these things, reader; think of them when, 
without any intention of committing a wilful sin, 
you engage in a work, having, it may be, no particular 
good or evil for its object; say to yourself, " Am I 
laying out this hour in such a way as will repay me 
with future advantage? ' be candid with yourself, and 
we venture to hope that yo\i will, at least, pause 
before jsou deliberately incur the responsibility of a 
waste of time, which is forcibly described by your 
excellent poet Cowper, as no better than 

Dropping buckets into empty wells. 

And growing old in drawing nothing up. 

H. H. 

Among other instructive lessons with which the book or 
Job abounds, we have a lively instance of the weakness 
and insecurity of our condition, unless the watchful eye 
and hand of Providence be over us, to guard us against 
the dangois and miseries that surround us, and are ready 
to break in upon us. No sooner did the Almighty see fit, 
for the trial and exorcise of this good mans virtues, to 
remove the hedge that was set about him for his defence, 
than men and devils invade his happiness. His greedy 
neighbours spoil his goods, and slay his servants ; Are from 
heaven consumes the rest ; a wind from the desert over- 
turns the house where his sons and daughters were all 
feasting together, and buries his children in its ruin. His 
person is next attacked, and bis body smitten with sore 
and grievous boils, from the crown of his head, to the sole 
of his feet. And the patriarch became at once childless, 
destitute, and atllictcd, who, the day before, was famous 
among the people of the East, for his prosperity and tlie 
glory of bis house. 

The calamities which Job suffered, were indeed uncom- 
mon. But what was it that rendered them so ? It was 
because God, in his wisdom, was pleased to suspend for a 
while the ordinary protection of his Providence ; and not 
because any new evils were called up from the bottomless 
pit, on purpose to torment him. The terror by ni<;ht, the 
arrow that ttieth by day, the pestilence that walketh in 
darkness, the destruction that wasteth at noon-day, are 
always ready to invade us, as they did him, but that the 
Almighty controls their fury. For the kingdom, and the 
power, and the glory, are his. 

These considerations leave no room for confidence in the 
arm of flesh ; at the same time, they remove all just 
ground of anxiety and disquiet, while we so live, as to 
make God our friend ! without whose permission, nothing 
sad or disastrous can befall us. And, although we may 
expect to meet trials, for this life is a state of trial, and we 
see that the good and righteous have their atllictions, yet, 
under a sense of God's disposing and overruling provi- 
dence, we have no reason to be cast down : nay, we have 
all reason to the contrary, whatever may befall us : since, 
what is appointed by Him, must be wisely and graciously 
appointed ; either to correct and amend what is amiss, 
or to try and exercise what is good, in his servants ; for 

their improvement in grace, and preparation for glory. 

Towns ON. 






Those who are prejudiced or enthusiastic,, live, and move, 
and think, and act, in an atmosphere of their own con- 
formation. The delusion so produced is sometimes de- 
plorable, sometimes ridiculous, always remediless. No 
events are too great, or too little, to be construed by such 
persons into peculiar or providential corroboratives, or 
consequences of their own morbid hallucinations. An old 
maiden lady, who was a most determined espouser of the 
cause of the Pretender, happened to be possessed of a 
beautiful canai-y-bird, whose vocal powers were the annoy- 
ance of one half of the neighbourhood, and the admiration 
of the other. Lord Peterborough was very solicitous to 
procure this bird, as a present to a lady who had set her 
heart on being mistress of this little musical wonder. 
Neither his lordship's entreaties, nor his bribes could pre- 
vail ; but so able a negociator was not to be easily foiled. 
He took an opportunity of changing the bird, and of sub- 
stituting another in its cage, during some lucky moment, 
when its vigilant protectress was off her guard. The 
changeling was precisely like the original, except in that 
particular respect which alone constituted its value ; it was 
a perfect mute, and had more taste for seeds than for 
songs. Immediately after this manoeuvTe, that battle 
which utterly ruined the hopes of the Pretender took place. 
A decent interval had elapsed, when his lordship sum- 
moned up resolution to call again on the old lady : in order 
to smother all suspicion of the trick he had played upon 
her, he was about to affect a great anxiety for the jx)s- 
session of the bird ; she saved him all trouble on that score 
by anticipating, as she thought, his errand, exclaiming, 
" O ho ! my Lord, then you are come again, I presume, 
to coax me out of my dear little idol, but it is all in vain, 
he is now dearer to me than ever; I would not part with 
him for his cage full of gold. Would you believe it, my 
lord ? From the moment that his gracious sovereign was 
defeated, the sweet little fellow has not uttered a single 

" IN passing through Mitre Alley, the eye is attracted by 
an angular sign-board, projecting from the wall, on which 
is the following inscription. " Domestic medicine prescribed 
from Irish manuscripts," and a couplet of Irish poetry 
follows. Attracted by this notice, we visited the doctor, in 
the hope of meeting with those Irish manuscripts from 
which he derived his prescriptions. Nor were we disap- 
pointed. We found an old man of a genuine Milesian 
aspect, possessed of seventy-three very old volumes of 
vellum, bound in modern covers. They contained several 
thousand receipts in Latin and Irish, written in a beautiful 
but very old Irish character. From this ancient repertory, 
the doctor collected all his knowledge of the healing art, 
and practised to some extent among the poorof his vicinity. 
History of Dublin. L. G. 


The ignorant have often given credit to the wise, for 
powers that are permitted to none, merely because the wise 
have made a proper use of those powers that are permitted 
to all. A little Arabian tale of The Dervisk will show 
how this may happen. 

A dervise was journeying alone in the desert, when two 
merchants suddenly met him : — " You have lost a camel," 
said he to the merchants. " Indeed we have," they replied. 
" Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his left 
leg?" said the dervise. " He was," rephed the merchants. 
"And was he not loaded with honey on one side, and 
wheat on the other ? " " Most certainly he was," they 
replied, " and as you have seen him so lately, and marked 
him so particularly, we pray you to conduct us to him." 

" My friends," said the dervise, " I have never seen your 
camel, nor ever heard of him but from you." " A pretty 
story, truly," said the merchants ; " but where are the 
jewels which formed a part of his cargo?" " I have 
neither seen your camel nor your jewels," repeated the 

On this they seized his person, and forthwith hurried 
him before a justice, where, on the strictest search, nothing 
could be found upon him, either of falsehood or of theft. 

An upright posture is easier than a stooping one, because 
it is more natural, and one part is better supported by 
another; so it is easier to be an honest man than a knave. 

They were then about to proceed apamst him as a sorcerer, 
when the dervise, with great calmness, thus addressed the 

" I have been much pleased with your surprise, and own 
that there has been some ground for your suspicions ; but 
I have lived long, and alone ; and I can find ample scope 
for observation, even in a desert. I knew that I had 
crossed the track of a camel that had strayed from its 
owner, because I saw no mark of any human footstep on 
the same route. I knew that the animal was blind in one 
eye, because it had cropped the herbage only on one side of 
its path ; and I perceived that it was lame in one leg, from 
the faint impression which that particular foot had produced 
upon the sand. I concluded that the animal had lost one 
tooth, because, wherever it had grazed, a small tuft of 
herbage was left uninjured in the centre of its bite. As to 
that which formed the burden of the beast, the busy ants 
informed me that it was corn on the one side, and the 
clustering fhes that it was honey on the other." — -Colton. 

A TRAVELLING man, one winter's evening, laid himself 
down upon the platform of a lime-kiln, placing his feet, 
probably benumbed with cold, upon the heap of stones, 
newly put on to burn through the night. Sleep overcame 
him in this situation, the fire gradually rising and increas- 
ing, until it ignited the stones upon which his feet were 
placed. Lulled by the warmth, the man slept on ; the flre 
increased until it burned one foot, (which probably was 
extended over a vent-hole,) and part of the leg above the 
ancle entirely off, consuming that part so effectually, that a 
cinder-like fragment was alone remaining, and still the 
wretch slept on ! and in this state was found by the kiln- 
men in the morning. Insensible to any pain, and ignorant 
of his misfortune, he attempted to rise and pursue his 
journey ; but, missing his shoe, requested to have it found, 
and when he was raised, putting his burnt limb to the 
ground to support his body, the extremity of his leg-bone 
crumbled into fragments, having been calcined into lime. 
Still he expressed no sense of pain, and probably expe- 
rienced none, from the gradual operation of the fire, and 
his own torpidity, during the hours his foot was consuming. 
This poor drover survived his misfortunes in the hospital 
about a fortnight ; but the fire having extended to other 

parts of his body, recovery was hopeless. Journal of a 


The heart may be engaged in a little business, as much, 
if thou watch it not, as in many and great affairs. A man 
may drown in a little brook or pool, as well as in a great 
river, if he lie down and plunge himself into it, and put 
his head under water. Some care thou must have, that 
thou mayest not care. Those things that are thorns indeed, 
thou must make a hedge of them, to keep out those 
temptations that accompany sloth, and extreme want that 
waits on it; but lot them be the hedge: suffer them not 
to grow within the garden. Coleridge. 


The first march from Abusheher we had to pass over a 
desert plain of considerable extent, on which I amused 
myself by watching narrowly the various changes, as we 
were near or remote from it, of that singular vapour, called 
by the French Mirage, and by the Arabs and Persians 


The induence of this vapour in changing the figure of 
objects is very extiaordinary ; it sometimes gives to those 
seen tlirough it the most fantastical shapes, and, as a gene- 
ral effect, it always appears to elevate, and make objects 
seem much taller than they really are. A man, for instance, 
seen through it at the distance of a mile and a half upon 
the level plain, appears to be almost as tall as a date-tree. 

Its resemblance to water is complete, and justifies all the 
metaphors of poets, and their tales of thirsty and deluded 

The most singular quality of this vapour is its power of 
reflection. When a near observer is a little elevated, as on 
horseback, he will see trees and other objects reflected as 
from the surface of a lake. The vapour, when seen at a 
distance of six or seven miles, appears to lie upon the 
earth hke an opaque mass; and it certainly does not rise 
many feet above the ground, for I observed that, while the 
lower part of the town of Abusheher was hid from the view, 
some of the more elevated buildings, and the tops of a few 
date-trees, were distinctly visible. Sketches oj Persia. 



[April 12. 1834. 

The Gyninoti, or Electrical Eels, which resemble 
large water serpents, inhabit several streams of South 
America, and abound also in the Oroonoko, the 
Amazon, and the Meta, but the strength of the 
c-urreut, and the depth of the water in these large 
rivers, prevent their being caught by the Indians. 
They see these fish less frequently than they feel 
electric shocks from them, when swimming or bathing 
in the river. To catch the Gymnoti with nets is 
\ ery difficult, on account of the extreme agility of 
the fish, which bury themselves in the mud like 
serpents. Roots are sometimes thrown into the 
water to intoxicate or benumb these animals, but we 
would not employ these means, as they would have 
enfeebled the gymnoti: the Indians, therefore, told 
us, that they would " fish with horses." We found it 
difficult to form an idea of this extraordinary manner 
of fishing; but we soon saw our guides return from 
the savannah, which they had been scouring for wild 
horses and mules. They brought about thirty with 
them, which they forced to enter the pool. 


The extraordinary noise caused by tlie horses' 
hoofs, makes the fish issue from the mud, and 
excites them to combat ; they swim on the surface 
')f the water, and crowd under the bellies of the 
liorses and mules. A contest between animals "of so 
diiferent an organization, furnishes a very striking 
spectacle. The Indians, provided with harpoons and 
long slender reeds, surround the pool closely ; and 
some climb upon the trees, the branches of which 
extend horizontally over the surface of the water. 
By their wild cries, and the length of their reeds, 
they prevent the liorses from running away, and 
reaching the bank of the pool. The eels, stunned by 
the noise, defend themselves by the repeated discharge 
of their electric power, and during a long time 
they seem to prove victorious. Several horses sink 
lieneath the violence of the invisible strokes, which 
they receive from all sides, and stunned by the force 
and frequency of the shocks, disappear under the 
water. Others, panting, with mane erect, and haggard 
eyes, expressing anguish, raise themselves, and en- 
deavour to flee from the storm by which they are 
overtaken. They are driven back by the Indians 
into the middle of the water; but a small number 
succeed in eluding the active vigilance of the fishermen. 
These regain the shore, stumbling at every step, and 
stretch them.selves on the sand, exhausted with 
fatigue, and their limbs benumbed by the electric 
sliocks of the gymnoti. In less than five minutes 
tiu horses were drowned, '^hc eel bein" five feet 

long, and pressing itself against the belly of the 
horses, makes a discharge along the whole extent of 
its electric organ. The horses are probably only 
stunned, not killed, but they are drowned from 
the impossibility of rising, amid the prolonged 
struggles between the other horses and the eels. 

We had little doubt, that the fishing would termi- 
nate by killing, successively, all the animals engaged, 
but, by degrees, the impetuosity of this unequal 
contest diminished, and the wearied gymnoti dispersed. 
The mules and horses appeared less frightened : their 
manes no longer bristled, and their eyes expressed 
less dread. The Gymnoti, which require a long rest 
and abundant nourishment to repair what they have 
lost of galvanic force, approach timidly the edge of 
the marsh, where they are taken by means of small 
harpoons, fastened to long cords. 

The Gymnotus is the largest of electrical fishes ; I 
measured some that were from five to five feet three 
inches long, and the Indians assert that they have 
seen still longer. We found that a fish of three feet 
ten inches long weighed twelve pounds ; the trans- 
verse diameter of the body was three inches five 
lines. The Gymnoti of Cano de Bera are of a fine 
olive-green ; the under part of tlie head is yellow, 
mingled with red. Along the back are two rows of 
small yellow spots, from which exudes a slimy 
matter that spreads over the skin of the animal, and 
which, as Volta has proved, conducts electricity 
twenty or thirty times better than pure water. It is, 
in general, somewhat remarkable, that no electrical 
fish yet discovered in the different parts of the world, 
is covered with scales. 

The Gymnoti, which are objects of the most lively 
interest to the philosopher of Europe, are dreaded 
and detested by the natives. Their flesh furnishes 
pretty good food, but the electric organ fills the 
greater part of the body, and this being slimy and 
disagreeable to the taste, is carefully separated from 
the rest. The presence of the Gymnoti is also con- 
sidered as the principal cause of the want of fish 
in the ponds and pools of the Llanos, where they 
kill many more fish than they devour. The Indians 
told us, that when they take young alligators and 
gymnoti at the same time in very strong nets, the 
latter never display the slightest trace of a wound, 
because they disable the young alligators before 
they are attacked by them. All the inhabitants of 
the waters dread the Gymnoti; lizards, tortoises, 
and frogs, seek the pools, where they are secure 
from their action. It became necessary to change 
the direction of a road near Uritucu, because these 
electrical eels were so numerous in one river, that 
they every year killed a great number of mules of 
burden as tiiey forded the river. 

It would be temerity to expose ourselves to the 
first shocks of a very large and strongly irritated 
Gymnotus. If by chance you receive a stroke before 
the fish is wounded, or wearied by a long pursuit, 
the pain and numbness are so violent, that it is 
impossible to describe the nature of the feeling they 
excite. I do not remember having ever received 
from the discharge of an electrical machine, a more 
dreadful shock, than that which I experienced by 
imprudently placing both my feet on a Gymnotus 
just taken out of the water. I was affected the rest 
of the day with a violent pain in the knees, and 
in almost every joint. 

[Humboldt's Personal Narrative.] 


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Vor,. IV. 




[April 19. 

Hull, or Kingston upon Hull, is a seaport, in the 
East Riding of the county of York, containing 
54,110 inhabitants. It was founded by Edward the 
First, from whom it received the name of King's 
Town, now Kingston, to which was added upon Hull, 
to distinguish it from Kingston-upon-Thames, and 
other places of similar appellation. The harbour 
was formed in the twenty-seventh year of his reign, 
and in the same year he granted the town a charter. 
From this time the increase of the town was 
remarkable, and in 1316, a ferry over the Humber 
was established, between Hull and Barton. Ten 
years afterwards the town was fortified; and so 
rapid was its improvement, that in the reign of 
Edward the Third, it supplied sixteen ships towards 
an armament for the invasion of France, when 
London only furnished twenty-five. During the 
contests between the houses of York and Lancaster, 
Hull continued faithful to the latter, whose cause 
they maintained in the battles of Wakefield and 
Towton. During the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
turies, this place suffered greatly, in common with 
many others, from pestilential diseases, but continued 
to prosper and extend its commerce. In 1541, it 
was visited by Henry the Eighth, who made additions 
to the fortifications. During the civil war, in the 
reign of Charles the First, it became a place of great 
importance to both parties, as it con'^^-ined a larger 
quantity of stores and ammunition than that in the 
Tower of London. The King attempted to put the 
Earl of Northumberland into the town as governor, 
but the mayor refused to receive him, and admitted 
Sir John Hotham, who was sent by the Parliament. 
The town was unsuccessfully besieged, first by the 
king, and afterwards by the Marquis of Newcastle. 

Hull is situated at the confluence of the rivers 
Hull and Humber. The streets in the older part of 
the town are narrow and incommodious ; but in the 
new, more spacious and regular. The houses in 
general are built of brick ; the streets are paved with 
stone brought from Iceland, as ballast in the ships 
employed in the whale-fishery, and are lighted with 
gas. The inhabitants are supplied with water from 
springs, which rise near Kirk Ella, about four miles 
from the town. Hull consists of three unequal 
divisions ; that which was first built is completely 
insulated by the docks, which have been constructed 
on the site of the ancient military works; on the 
north side of the old dock, is Sculcoates, containing 
several handsome modern streets ; and of still more 
recent date, is that part which lies westward from 
the Humber dock, occupying the supposed site of 
the ancient hamlet of Myton, which name it still 
retains. The Garrisonside, which is extra parochial, 
is connected with the principal part of the town by 
a bridge of four arches, over the river Hull, having 
a drawbridge in the centre. 

ITie Public Rooms, of which the first stone was 
laid on the day on which his Majesty William the 
Fourth was proclaimed, form a handsome edifice of 
brick, with an elegant portico of the Ionic order: 
they comprise a room for concerts and public meet- 
ings, a drawing-room, a dining-room, baths, a museum 
of natural history, &c. Hull also possesses an Ex- 
change ; a Subscription Library established in 1775 ; 
the Lyceum Library in 1807 ; the Theological Library, 
containing many scarce works ; a Literary and Philo- 
sophical Society with a good museum ; a Mechanics' 
Institute, having a library and a fine picture by 
Briggs, representing the progress of civilization in 
Britain; and a Botanic Garden, opened in 1812. 
There are also Baths, a Theatre, and various chari- 
table and scieatific institutions. 

Hull has long been famed for its trade and ship- 
ping, for which its situation is peculiarly favourable. 
It carries on a considerable foreign trade with Nor- 
way, Sweden, Holland, Hamburgh, France, Spain, 
and America, to which it exports the manufactured 
goods and produce of the counties of Lancashire, 
York, Nottingham, Derby, Stafford, and Chester : 
the manufactured goods and produce brought into 
this port, from the west riding of the county of 
York alone, are estimated at five millions sterling 
per annum. It carries on also an extensive coasting 
trade. The whale-fishery originated at this place in 
1589, when the merchants fitted out two vessels for 
Greenland : at present, few ships are sent from this 
port to Greenland, nearly the whole being fitted out 
for Davis's Straits. Between forty and fifty vessels 
are employed in this way annually. 

The Docks, which contribute so much to the 
commercial prosperity of the town, were commenced 
in 1774, when a subscription was set on foot, and an 
Act of Parliament obtained, for incorporating the 
shareholders under the name of the Dock Company 
of Kingston-upon-HuU. The crown granted the 
military works of the town, and the parliament voted 
£15,000 towards defraying the expense of the under- 
taking. The first stone of what is now called the 
Old Dock, was laid October 19th, 1775, and the 
whole completed in four years: this dock is 600 
yards long, 85 broad, and 23 deep. The Humber 
Dock was begun April 13th, 1807, and completed 
June 30th, 1809; it communicates with the river, 
from which it takes its name, by a lock large enough 
to admit a fifty-gun ship: it is 300 yards long, 114 
wide, and 30 deep. These two docks are capable of 
holding six hundred vessels. The Junction Dock, 
uniting the two former, enables vessels to pass round 
the town: it was completed in 1830, and will contain 
sixty vessels, besides allowing room for others to 
pass. In addition to these there are two basins, the 
Old Dock Basin and the Humber Dock Basin. The 
total area of water of the several docks and basins, 
is upwards of twenty-six acres. There are two 
entrances to the docks, one from the river Humber 
on the south, and the other from the river Hull, or 
the harbour, on the east. 

Of the ancient fortifications there remain only two 
of the forts erected by Henry the Eighth, by which, 
and by several batteries on the east side of the river, 
the town and harbour are defended. 

The principal manufactures are turpentine and 
tar, white lead, soap, tobacco and snuff, sails, sail- 
cloth, ropes, and chain cables. There are several 
linseed mills, a sugar-refinery, and large breweries. 
The government of the town is vested in a mayor, 
recorder, twelve aldermen, sheriff, chamberlain, &c. 
A new gaol and house of correction was built about 
1830 on Mr. Howard's plan. Hull returns two 
members to parliament. 

Hull, about the year 1534, was made the see of a 
bishop, but this was abolished on the death of Ed- 
ward VI. The borough comprises the parishes of 
Drypool, St. Mary, the Holy Trinity, Sculcoates and 
Sutton, and Garrisonside. St. Mary's Church, of 
which the greater part was demolished in the reign 
of Henry VIII., consists principally of the chancel of 
the original structure ; it contains some good windows 
in the later style of English architecture. Trinity 
Church is an ancient and spacious ci-uciform building 
with a very beautiful tower. St. John's Church, in 
the same parish, was erected in 1 792. There is also 
another church in Myton, and there are several places 
of worship for the various classes of dissenters. 

The Grammar School was founded in 1486 by Dr. 




Alcock, who was successively Bishop of Roiihester, 
Worcester, and Ely. Of the eminent men educated 
here, may be mentioned Andrew Marvell; Mason the 
poet; Dr. Isaac Milner; the late W. Wilberforce, 
Esq. ; and Archdeacon Wrangham. There are also 
various other schools, several hospitals, and a general 
Infirmary. The Guild of the Holy Trinity was esta- 
blished by the masters, pilots and seamen of the 
Trinity House in Hull, in 1369, for the relief of 
decayed seamen and their widows. The Trinity 
House, rebuilt in 1753, contains several curiosities 
from foreign countries, and numerous paintings. 

Hull is the birth-place of several persons of dis- 
tinction, amongst whom are Dr. Thomas Johnson, an 
eminent physician and botanist; Sir John Lawson a 
distinguished naval commander in the reign of 
Charles the Second; Rev. W. Mason the poet, and 
biographer of Gray; Spence the entomologist; and 
W. Wilberforce, Esq. 

[Abridged from Lewis's Topographical Dictionary^] 


The shape and material of Bells is different in dif- 
ferent countries ; they evidently originated in cymbals 
or basins, and there was probably a very gradual 
alteration in their shape. The use of bells implies a 
certain degree of civilization, for amongst savage 
tribes, in various parts of the world, they have hardly 
ever been observed. In Europe bells are made of a 
compound of copper and tin, called bell-metal, with, 
occasionally, silver, in very small quantities. The 
Chinese composition employed in their gongs is more 
sonorous than any European bell-metal. 

The earliest mention of bells is, their being attached 
to the robes of Aaron, and worn at religious cere- 
monies; from which we may inter that they were 
known to the Egyptians in very early times. The 
ancient Greeks and Romans were certainly well 
acquainted with the use of bells, and, at Athens, the 
priest of Proserpine employed them in calling the 
people to sacrifice. They were hung at the gates of 
Roman temples on some occasions, and frequently 
used for domestic purposes. It is not quite certain 
when bells were first used to summon congregations to 
the Christian churches ; for which purpose trumpets, 
hammers, and the human voice were anciently em- 
ployed. Bede mentions a bell being used in a 
church, A. D. 680. An abbot of Croyland, about the 
year 1 000, made the first attempt at ringing a sort of 
peal witii five bells. They were usually consecrated 
in honour of some saint, and had different inscrip- 
tions and sentences on them. 

The custom of tolling bells immediately after 
deaths, and during funerals, is said to have at first 
originated in the superstitions of the Pagans relating 
to demons, whom noise of all kinds was supposed 
to disturb and scare away. The ringing of bells 
during eclipses is mentioned by Juvenal, in the time 
of the Roman Empire, and they were soon applied to 
superstitious uses in the church. In the " Councils of 
Cologne," it is said, " let the bells be blessed as the 
trumpets of the church militant, by which the psople 
are assembled to hear the word of God ; the clergy 
to announce his mercy by day, and his truth in their 
nocturnal vigils, that, by their sound, the faithful may 
be invited to prayer, and that the spirit of devotion 
in them may be increased. The fathers have also 
maintained that demons affrighted by the sound of 
bells calling Christians to prayer would flee away, and 
when they fled the persons of the faithful would be 
secure ; that the destruction of lightnings would be 
averted, and the spirits of the storm defeated." 

Perhaps, also, the motive of warning the hearers to 
pray for the souls of the dead, may, during the pre- 
valence of superstition, have kept up the custom. It 
soon became the subject of emolument, fees being 
demanded for ringing the passing bell, and the quality 
or profession of the person distinguished by the 
ringing of a certain number of strokes, or of a par- 
ticular bell. At the present day, St. Paul's Cathedral 
great bell is only tolled on the death of some of the 
Royal Family; and at Christ Church College, Oxford, 
the bell, which is the signal of the shutting of the 
gates every evening, is said to be tolled as many 
times as there are students on the Foundation. 
The custom of muffling bells may have been first 
introduced out of regard to the nerves of the expiring 
Jiearer ; in the case of monks and priests, the usual 
close neighbourhood of the monastery or church bell 
would seem to favour the idea, and it was afterwards 
naturally used on all mournful occasions. 

The various ceremonies of the Roman Catholic 
church were accompanied, and often announced, by 
the ringing of bells, every hour of the day being 
distinguished, as is still the case in Roman Catholic 
countries. When the monks were to undergo disci- 
pline in their monasteries, a bell called corrigiuncula, 
" the little correctress," was rung. Bells were some- 
times suspended to the necks of criminals when 
undergoing punishment. 

To deprive a town of its bells was a mark of degra- 
dation sometimes inflicted for revolt. A bell taken 
from Calais by Henry the Fifth, is still in the steeple 
of his native town, Monmouth. Music-bells, worked 
by machinery, or chimes, are preserved in many 
towns in England, Germany, and the Netherlands, in 
which country they are very fine. At Antwerp there 
are thirty-three in the cathedral tower ; their sound 
is harmonious, and foreign chimes, in general, have a 
much more brilliant execution than those of England. 
The custom of ringing peals of bells, by persons 
trained to the employment, is almost entirely confined 
to England ; it has not even extended to America ; 
it is far superior to the inharmonious jangle of bells 
of all sizes in foreign towns. In 15.50 ringing bells 
by way of rejoicing was common in England. 

The use of a very large bell as an alarm-bell, has 
been for ages common to the continental cities of 
Europe. The great bell of St. Mark's, at Venice, 
was used for this purpose, and " Sound your 
trumpets and we will ring our bells," was the 
well-known defiance of the chief magistrate of the 
Florentine Republic to the German Emperor. In 
French History, we are but too familiar with the 
ringing of the tocsin, which was used in the late 
revolution, as the signal of civil war; whilst in our own 
fortunate country, which for many hundred years has 
never seen a hostile army, and for nearly a century 
has escaped civil war, the curfew alone preserves the 
memory of less fortunate times, and our bells serve 
only to call us to the worship of our Maker and 
Saviour, to tell of the departure of a friend or neigh- 
bour, to increase the festivities of a marriage, a birth, 
or a coming of age, to commemorate past deliver- 
ances, or triumphs, or to announce new causes for 
national gratitude to the Giver of all good. 

As bells were of old the subject of pious donations, 
he who could give the greatest gift had the greatest 
merit, which tended more than any thing else to 
produce bells of very great size. We read of a bell 
in the time of Edward the Third, weighing 33,000 
pounds weight. The great bell of St. Ivan's tower, 
at Moscow, is upwards of forty feet in circumference 
and sixteen inches thick, and weighs above fifty tons 
There are said to be sevea bells at Pekin, each 




[April 19 

■weighing 120,000 pounds, but their tone is poor, the 
clappers being of wood. In the year 1497, a bell 
was cast at Erfurth, in Germany, weighing 2.52,000 
pounds, which was the largest bell ever hung, the 
great bell of Moscow*, (not that in St. Ivan's tower 
previously mentioned,) never having been hung. 

In troublesome times, it has often happened, that 
church bells were melted down and coined. In 
many parts of the Continent, more particularly in 
France, a coinage of this metal, struck in the time 
of the Revolution of 1792, may still be seen 
* See Saturday Mtis^azine^ Vol. III., p. 7. 


The Sabbath bell ! the Sabbath bell ! 

To toil-worn men a sootliing sound j 
Now labour rests beneath its spell, 

And holy stillness reigns around : 
The plougliman's team, the thresher's flail, 

The woodman's axe, their clamours cease. 
And only nature's notes prevail, 

To humble bosoms echoing peace. 

1 he Sabbath bell ! the Sabbath bell I 

Hov sweet on ears devout it falls ; 
While its sweet chime, with varying swell. 

The rich and poor to worship calls. 
Hark! hark! again with sharper peals 

It chides the laggard's fond delay ; 
Now through the vale it softly steals. 

To cheer the timely on their way. 

The Sabbath bell ! the Sabbath bell ! 

What soul-awakening sounds we hear. 
Its blessed invitations tell 

Of welcome to the house of prayer. 
* Come, sinner, come," it seems to cry ; 

"' O, never doubt thy Maker's love; 
'■ Christ has thy ransoin paid, then why 

" Delay his clemency to prove V 

The Sabbath bell • the Sabbath bell ! 

Oft have we heard its warning chime, 
And yet we love tlie world too well. 

Nor feel our waywardness a crime: 
Yet still thy calls, sweet bell, repeat. 

Till, ended all our mortal strife. 
In hand-built shrines no more we meet. 

But worship in the realms of life. 

The Sabbath bell ! the Sabbath bell ! 

Its friendly summons peals no more ; 
The thronging crowds pour in with zeal 

The Great Jehovah to adore. 
Hence ! fancy wild, hence \ earth-born care , 

With awe let hallowed courts be trod ; 
Wake all the soul to love and prayer. 

And reverence the present God I R. M 

To lose an old friend, is to be cut off from a great part of 
the little pleasure that this life allows. But sucli is the 
condition of out- nature, that as we live on, we must see 
those whom we love drop successively, and find our circle of 
relations grow less and less, till we are almost unconnected 
with the world ; and then it must soon be our turn to drop 
into the grave. There is always this consolation, that we 
hive one Protector who can never bo lost but by our own 
^ult, and every new experience of the uncertainty of all 
other comforts, should determine us to fix our hearts where 
true joys are to be found. All union with the inhabitants of 
earth must in time be broken; and all the hopes that 
terminate here, must on one part or other, end in disap- 
pointment. — Johnson. 


Tjiou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee' 
Though sorrow and tlarkness encompass the tomb ; 

The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee. 
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 

Thou art gone to the grave, we no longer behold thee. 

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side ; 
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee. 

And sinners may hope since the Sinless hath died. 
Thou art gone to the grave, and its mansion forsaking. 

Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long ; 
But the sunshine of heaven beamed light on thy waking. 

And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song. 

Thou art gone to the grave, but 'twere vain to deplore thee. 
When Ood was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy guide ; 

He gave thee. He took thee, and lie shall restore thee, 
Aid Death hath no sting since the Saviour hath died. 


Sir Charles Bell has described some curiou* 
phenomena in optics, which will be very easily com- 
prehended by the previous knowledge of two or three 
acknowledged facts. 

"Vision or sight is produced by the rays of light, 
(which fall from the sun or any other source of light, 
on an object,) being reflected from thence, so as to 
fall on the retina or back part of the eye : thus the 
moon is seen by the rays of light (which fall on it 
from the sun), being reflected back to the eye, and a 
tree, a house, or any other object is seen by the 
daylight (which falls on the tree or the house), 
being in like manner reflected on the eye. 

A ray of light is compounded of many rays, and 
may be divided into seven, capable of causing to the 
eye the sensation of so many different colours ; red, 
orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. If 
all these are reflected together, they produce on the 
retina the sensation of white, as from this paper. 
If these colours in their proper order and proportion 
be painted on the broad rim of a wheel, and that 
wheel be swiftly turned round, it will appear of an 
uniform and white colour. Black is the absence of 
all colour, when the rays are all absorbed and none 

The separation of a ray of light into colours is 
a beautiful experiment, and easily performed. Get a 
prism, which may be procured at any optician's for a 
trifle ; it is a piece of glass a few inches in length, 
with three sides, in the form of a triangle. 

Suspend this prism a b c, at a hole f in the closed 
window-shutter e o, so that a beam of light s from 
the sun may pass through, and be received on a 
paper attached to the opposite wall m n. The image 
of the sun will appear on the paper at p t, of an 
oblong form, rounded at the extremities and straight 
at the edges ; this image is called the prismatic 
spectrum, the principal part of which will be com- 
posed of seven parallel spaces of different breadths, 
and exhibiting seven different colours. The lowest 
colour is red, and above it appears successively, 
orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, which 
is the highest coloured space. If we suppose the 
coloured part of the spectrum to be divided into one 
hundred parts, the red space is found to occupy 
eleven of those parts, the orange eight, the yellow 
fourteen, the green seventeen, the blue seventeen, the 
indigo eleven, and the violet twenty-two. 

The retina is the internal coat of the eye, it con- 
sists of a delicate pulpy nervous matter, which is 
contained between two membranes of extreme fine- 
ness, and these membranes both support it, and give 
to its surfaces a smoothness mathematically correct. 
The matter of the nerves, as well as their supporting 
membranes, are perfectly transparent during life. 
Vision is not excited by light, unless the rays pene- 
trate through the transparent retina, and reach the 
exterior surface from within. The retina is subject 
to exhaustion. When a coloured ray of light im- 

l6^ i 



pinges continuously on the same part of the retina, 
the retina becomes less sensible to it, but more 
sensible to a ray of the opposite colour. When the 
eye is fixed upon a point, the lights, shades, and 
colours of objects continuing to strike upon the same 
relative parts of the retina, the nerve is exhausted: 
but when the eye shifts, there is a new exercise of 
the nerve. The part of the retina that was opposed 
to the lights, is now opposed to the shades, and what 
was opposed to the different colours, is now opposed 
to other colours, and the variation in the exciting 
cause produces a renewed sensation. From this it 
appears, how essential the incessant searching motion 
of the eye is to the continued exercise of the organ. 

The familiar fact which we have to carry with us 
into this inquiry, is, that if we throw a silver coin 
upon a dark table, and fix the eye upon the centre of 
the coin, when we remove the coin there is, for a 
moment, a white spot in its place, which presently 
becomes deep black. If we put a red wafer, upon a 
sheet of white paper, and look upon it, and continue 
to keep the eye fixed upon the same point, upon 
removing the wafer, the spot where it lay on the 
white paper will appear green. If we look upon a 
green wafer in the same manner, and remove it, the 
spot will be red; if upon blue or indigo, the paper 
will seem yellow. These phenomena are to be 
explained, by considering that the nerve is exhausted 
by the continuauce of the impression, and becomes 
more apt to receive sensation from an opposite colour. 
All the colours of the prism come into the eye 
together from the surface of the white paper, when 
the wafer is removed; but if the nerve has been 
exhausted by the incidence of the red rays upon it, 
it will be insensible to these red rays when they are 
thus reflected together with the others from the 
white paper; the effect of the rays of an opposite 
kind will be increased, and, consequently, the spot 
will be no longer white, but of the prevailing green 

Let us see how the loss of sensibility produces an 
effect in engraving, where there is no colour, and 
only light and shade. 

Is it possible that a high tower, in a cloudless 
sky, can be less illuminated at the top than at th« 
bottom ? Yet, if we turn to a book of engravings, 
where an old steeple or tower is represented standing 
up against the clear sky, we shall find, that all the 
higher part is dark, and that the effect is picturesque 
and pleasing. Now this is perfectly correct, for 
though the highest part of the tower be in the 
brightest illumination, it is not seen so ; it never 
apfescn so to the eye. The reason is that when we 

look to the steeple, a great part of the retina is 
opposed to the light of the sky ; and on shifting the 
eye to look at the particular parts of the steeple, the 
reflected light from that object falls upon the retina, 
where it is exhausted by the direct light from the 
sky. If we look to the top of the tower, and then 
drop the eye on some of the lower architectural 
ornaments, the effect infallibly is, that the upper 
half of the tower is dark. For example, if looking 
to the point a, fig. 2, we drop the eye to n : the 
tower from a to b is seen by that part of the retina 
which was opposed to the clear sky from a to c; 
and it is dark, not by contrast, as it would be 
thoughtlessly said, but by the nerve being somewhat 
exhausted of its sensibility. L. C. 

[Bell's Bridgewater Ti-eutise.^ 

The following fiicts are recorded as a proof of the thirst of 
the Irish for knowledge, and the difficulties which are over- 
come by perseverance. 

Children have been known to acquire the first elements 
of reading, writing, and arithmetic, without a book, without 
a pen, without a slate ! And, indeed, the place of meeting 
was no other than a grave-yard. The long fiat stones with 
their inscriptions, were used instead of books, while a bit 
of chalk, and the grave-stones together, served for all the 
rest. Take tiie following as a specimen of what has been 
acquired, without the intervention of the English language, 
and when it could not be attained. Mr. Patrick Lyncfi, 
with whom the writer once had an opportunity of conversinjr, 
was, it appears, born near Quin, in the county of Clare, in 
the year 1757. He was educated near Ennis, by Donough 
an Charrain, i. e. Dennis of the Heap. His master knew 
no English, and young Lynch learned the classics through 
the medium of the Irish language. After acquiring in 
this way, an excellent knowledge of Greek, Hebrew, and 
Latin, he was compelled, by family misfortunes, to turn 
farmer, and for five years held a plough. From this em- 
ployment he was happily relieved, and was subsequently 
able to bettor his condition. Six years he passed as a tutor 
in a gentleman's family, and after sundry experiments of 
the same kind, he settled at Carrick on Suir. Here he 
commenced author. He had written a Chronoscope, but 
had no means of publishing it. In concert with a barber 
in the town, he procured some types, and by means of a 
bellows-press, he actually set and printed his first work 
with his own hands, and established the first printing 
press ever seen in that plnce. He next wrote and published 
at that place, a Pentaf^'ot Grammar, in which he instituted 
a comparison between English, Greek, Latin, Hebrew, 
and Irish: correcting several errors in the Saxon etymo- 
logies of Johnson. From Carrick he removed to Dublin, 
where his abilities were soon recognised. He was one of 
the first persons employed under the record commission, 
and was afterwards engaged in investigating the records of" 
Ireland. He was secretary to the Gaelic Society of Dublin, 
and among various publications, before his death, wa» 
employed in a geographical andstatistioalhistory of Ireland. 
Anderson's Sketches of Ancient Native Irish, L. C 

At Muscat, we were visited by men of all nations and 
colours. I was principally attracted by the appearance 
and manners of some Arabs from the interior, who were 
brought on board by their countrymen, to see an English 
ship-of-war. Their figures were light and elastic, their 
countenances expressed quickness and energy. The most 
remarkable of their features were their dark rolling eyes, 
which perhaps struck me more from their wandering 
rapidly from one object to another, glistening with wonder 
at all they saw. A good telescope happened to be placed 
so as to give a complete view of one of the farthest fortifi- 
cations. I called an Arab to look through it, and he did 
so for about a minute, then gazed with the most eager at- 
tention at me ; and, without saying a word, dashed ovci- 
the ship's side. When the boat he was in got to a little 
distance, he exclaimed, " You are magicians, and I now 
see how you take towns ; that thing (pointing to the tele- 
scope), be they ever so far off, brings them as near as you 
like." 'We were much amused with his simplicity, but no 
arguments could prevail on him to return and receive such 
a lesson on optics as might dispel his delusion in supposing 
us to be adepts in the black art." Sketches of Persia. 



[April 19 

Of every community, as it has pleased God to ordain in 
the present constitution of things, the poor must always 
form a very considerable majority. The necessities of 
mankind could never else be supplied ; for the rich will 
not labour, but they are constrained to pay those, who, for 
their own and the common fjood, can and will labour. In 
return for these services, the rich, if they were wise, should 
do every thing in their power, to make and keep the poor 
honest, \'irtuous, and religious ; to instruct, or procure them 
to be instructed, in the knowledge and practice of their 
duty to God and man; more especially, to set them a 
proper example. This would be to act the part of wise 
men, as well as good men. For when the religious prin- 
ciple is once perished and gone in the poor, human laws 
will lose their effect, and be set at nought. 

I will mention a remarkable instance of this, well 
attested. A servant, who had made the improvement that 
might be expected, from hearing the irreligious and blas- 
phemous conversation continually passing at the table 
where it was his place to wait, took an opportunity to rob 
his master. Being apprehended, and urged to give a 
reason for this infamous behaviour, " Sir," said he, " I had 
heard you so often talk of the impossibility of a future 
state, and that after death there was no reward for virtue, 
nor punishment for vice, that I was tempted to commit the 
robbery." " Well, but," replied the master, " had you no 
fear of that death which the laws of your country inflict 
upon the crime?" " Sir," rejoined the servant, looking 
sternly at his master, " what is that to you, if I had a mind 
to venture that? You had removed my greatest terror, 
why should I fear the less?" Bishop Hornj. 

To the righteous at tlie last great day, the Judge will say 
" Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom 
prepared for you from the foundation of the world." When 
the trial is ended, and the final allotments of angels and 
men are determined, Haming fire from the presence of the 
Judge will kindle this great v/orld with a universal 
conflagration. All the works of man; his palaces, towers, 
and temples ; his villages, towns, and cities ; his wonderful 
displays of art, his haughty piles of grandeur, and his vast 
labours of defence and dominion, will be lighted up in a 
single blaze, and vanish from the creation. Nor will the 
desolation he limited to the works of man. The earth on 
which we stand, the hills and mountains, the valleys and 
plains, the lakes, the rivers, shall all pass away ; " And 
like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck 
behind." Dwight. 

The good make a better bargain, and the bad a worse, 
than is usually supposed; for the rewards of the one, and 
the punishments of the other, not unfrequently begin on 
this side of the grave; for vice has more martvrs than 
virtue; and it often happens that men suffer more to be 
lost, than to be saved. But admitting that the vicious may 
happen to escape those tortures of the body, which are so 
commonly the wages of excess and of sin, yet in that 
calm and constant sunshine of the soul, which illuminates 
the breast of the good man, vice can have no competition 
with virtue. " Our thoughts," says an eloquent divine, 
" like the waters of the sea, when exhaled towards heaven, 
will lose all their bitterness and saltness, and sweeten into 
an amiable humanity, until they descend in gentle showers 
of love and kindness upon our fellow-men.'' Colton. 

Who that has languished, even in advanced life, in sick- 
ness and despondency : who that has pined on a weary bed 
in the neglect and loneliness of a foreign land ; but has 
thought on the Mother "that looked on his childhood," 
that . smoothed his pillow, and administered to his help- 
lessness. Oh ! there is an enduring tenderness in the love 
of a Mother to a Son, that transcends all other affections 
of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor 
daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor 
stifled by ingratitude. She sacrifices every comfort 
to his convenience ; she surrenders every pleasure to his 
enjoyment; she glories in his fame, and exults in his 
prosperity; and, if adversity overtake him, he becomes 
even more dear to her by misfortune; and if disgrace 
settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him ; 
and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the 
world to him. W. J 


No. IV. The Passage of the Douro. 

The battle of Vimiera, which is described in our last 
paper, was soon followed by the celebrated convention 
of Cintra, under which the French agreed to evacuate 
Portugal upon certain conditions. 

A short time previous to this evacuation. Napoleon 
had sustained severe reverses in Spain. An army of 
18,000 men, under General Dupont, had surrendered 
to the Spaniards ; the Emperor's brother, Joseph, 
whom he had placed on the throne of that kingdom, 
had abandoned Madrid, and fled to the north ; and 
two of his generals had been successfully resisted, in 
an attempt to capture the city of Zaragoza, whose 
heroic inhabitants had compelled their assailants to 
abandon its siege, by one of the most memorable 
defences recorded in history. The spirit of the usurper 
was roused, and the successes of the English in Portugal 
served only to animate him still further. He resolved 
at once to crush the nations of the Peninsula, and, 
to use his own expression, " to destroy the armies 
which the English had disembarked in that country." 
His means were mighty indeed, and they were guided 
by a powerful hand, and a hand, too, not restrained 
by any of those ties of honour or humanity which 
operate on ordinary men. Early in November he 
burst through the Pyrenees, at the head of 300,000 
valiant soldiers — men inured to battle, and gathered 
from among the countless hosts which he had spread 
over Europe. Not a month had elapsed before he 
was quietly seated in Madrid ; and he then began to 
move his armies towards Portugal, to execute his 
threat of driving the English from the Peninsula. In 
the mean while a British army, under Sir John 
Moore, was advancing towards the north of Spain, 
and threatened the French line of operations on the 
side of Burgos. The whole of Napoleon's force was 
instantly bent to that quarter, and the result was the 
celebrated retreat to Coruna, which ended in the 
battle at that place, and the death of the English 
general. Sir John Moore. 

By this movement of the British, Lisbon was 
saved from a second subjugation ; for Napoleon, 
having been recalled to France by the news of an 
approaching rupture with Austria, had left the com- 
pletion of his designs upon that city to Marhal Soult. 
The English government now made preparations for 
sending another army to Portugal, the command of 
which was given to Sir Arthur Wellesley. Large 
bodies of troops were collected, consisting partly of 
the regiments which had returned from Coruiia, and 
partly of others which had not yet seen service ; and 
these, as they severally became complete, were sent 
off to Lisbon, where Sir John Cradock was in com- 
mand with a small force. Sir Arthur Wellesley 
landed in that city on the 22nd of April, 1809, and 
his arrival created the greatest enthusiasm in Portu- 
gal. Every town throughout the kingdom, of which 
the French were not in possession, was illuminated 
for three successive nights, and the Regency made 
him Marshal- General of their Portuguese troops. 

The new commander had soon formed his plans, 
yet he was not hasty in his decision, for his situa- 
tion was one of some difficulty. In the north So^'lt 
held Oporto with 24,000 men, while Victor, at the 
head of 30,000, was hovering over the Alemtejo 
frontier on the west : if he advanced against either 
of these generals, he had to fear that the other would, 
in his absence, seize Lisbon. With his usual prompti- 
tude. Sir Arthur Wellesley determined at once to 
attack Soult, and drive him out of Portugal ; then 
turning to the south, he designed to co-operate vdth 





the Spaniards, under their General, Cuesta, and fall 
upon Victor. The main body of the army was 
directed upon Coimbra ; and by the 5th of May, 
25,000 troops were there concentrated, of which 
9000 were Portuguese, 3000 Germans, and the re- 
mainder British. 

At this time, there existed in Soult's army, one of 
those secret societies of Philadelphes, which grew out 
of Napoleon's military tyranny, and which had for 
their object, to hurl him from his throne, and erect 
a democracy in the place of his despotism. The 
conspirators were numerous in Soult's army, and 
their chief was the Sieur d'Argenton, whom Mr. 
Southey describes as one worthy to have fallen on 
better times, " for he was a man of kind and 
generous affections, at once firm of purpose, and 
gentle of heart." This person visited Sir Arthur 
WeUesley twice ; but when he returned from his second 
visit, he found himself suddenly arrested; Soult had 
learnt all his designs, and now offered him pardon 
if he would disclose the names of the other conspi- 
rators, and relate truly, what he had seen of the 
English and Portuguese armies. D'Argenton firmly 
refused to betray his confederates, but openly told 
all that he knew of the dispositions and intentions 
of the enemy. Owing to the foresight of Sir Arthur 
Wellesley, his information was of small import; yet 
scanty as it was, it was more than enough to rouse 
the suspicions of so vigilant a man as Soult. The 
marshal at once saw all the perils of his position, 
and he met them with his wonted firmness. It was 
evident, that he must no longer think of remaining 
in Portugal, and to secure his retreat into Spain, 
became therefore his first object. Orders were sent 
to General Loison, as he valued the safety of the 
army, to hold fast to the bridge at Amarante, by 
which the French would have to cross the Tamega; 
the greater part of the guns and stores were directed 
to the same quarter, and every preparation was made 
for retreat. But the arrangements of the British 
general had already begun to work, and Soult found 
that he had an active enemy to cope with. 

Sir Arthur Wellesley advanced by two different 
routes. Directing Marshal Beresford to turn the 
enemy's left, he himself, with the main body of his 
army, marched upon their right. A well-conceived 
attempt to surprise the French on the 9th, having 
failed, they were openly attacked, and compelled to 
draw back ; the whole of the 1 0th was spent in fighting 
and retreating, " a blow and a race," as Colonel Napier 
describes it ; both armies, in the mean while, rapidly 
nearing the Douro. The British halted at dark, but 
the French, continuing their retreat, passed the Douro 
in the night, and immediately afterwards broke down 
the bridge. All the boats and barges in the river were 
secured on the Oporto side, and guards were stationed 
at the most convenient points ; all the artillery and 
baggage remaining in Oporto, were sent off along 
the intended line of retreat, and Soult himself pro- 
posed to stay only until after the 1 2th ; thinking that, 
with a river like the Douro in his front, he was safe 
from attack for that short space of time. 

The Douro is a deep and rapid stream, longer in 
its course than any other in the Peninsula, and rolling 
a larger volume of waters into the sea than the 
Tagus. It is more than 300 yards wide at Oporto, 
and its banks on either side are steep and rocky. 
Just before it enters the city, it sweeps round the 
base of a lofty height on the south bank, which is 
crowned by the buildings and gardens of the convent 
of S. Agostinho da Serra, and which completely screens 
the city from all view of the upper part of the river. 
Beneath the shelter of this hill the whole of the 

British force was 
the morning of 
mounted to the 

assembled in one mass, early on 
the 12th. The general himself 
summit, and, " with an eagle's 
glance," scanned every object on the bank occupied 
by the enemy. Few French troops were to be seen, 
and there was every indication of the enemy's ap- 
proaching departure. Sir Arthur felt that he must 
be quick, or the prize would escape him, yet how to 
pass the river was the question. A large unfinished 
building, standing alone, and surrounded by a high 
stone wall, running down to the water's edge, soon 
fixed his attention, as affording a good position for 
those who should land first, until they could be 
supported ; here then he resolved to cross. 

" A boat," says Colonel Napier, " was soon ob- 
tained; for a poor barber of Oporto, evading the 
French patroles, had, during the night, come over 
the water in a small skiff. This being discovered by 
Colonel Waters, a staff-officer, of a quick and daring 
temper, he and the barber, and the prior of Ama- 
rante, who gallantly offered his aid, crossed the river, 
and, in half an hour, returned, unperceived, with 
three or four large barges. Meanwhile eighteen or 
twenty pieces of artillery were got up to the convent 
of Serra ; and Major-General John Murray, with the 
German brigade,some squadrons of the 14th Dragoons, 
and two guns, reached the Barca de Avintas, three 
miles higher up the river, his orders being to search 
for boats, and to effect a passage there also, if pos- 
sible. Some of the British troops were now sent 
towards Avintas, to support Murray, while others 
came cautiously forward to the brink of the river. 
It was ten o'clock ; the enemy wore tranquil and 
unsuspicious ; and an officer reported to Sir Arthur 
Wellesley, that one boat was brought up to the point 
of passage ; — " Well, let the men cross," was the 
reply ; and, upon this simple order, an officer and 
twenty-five soldiers, of the Buffs, entered the vessel, 
and, in a quarter of an hour, were in the midst of 
the French army. 

" The building was thus gained without any alarm 
being given, and every thing was still quiet in Oporto ; 
not a movement was to be seen ; not a hostile sound 
was to be heard : a second boat followed the first, 
and then a third passed a little higher up the river ; 
but scarcely had the men from the last landed, when 
a tumultuous noise of drums and shouts arose in the 
city; confused masses of the enemy were seen hurry- 
ing forth in all directions, and throwing out clouds 
of skirmishers, who came furiously down upon the 
building. The citizens were seen making signals from 
their houses, and the British troops instantly crowded 
to the bank of the river. 

The troops in the unfinished building maintained 
their ground ; the Douro was quickly covered with 
boats, which the exulting citizens eagerly brought ; 
and as Murray's troops were seen descending the 
right bank from Avintas, a loud shout in the town, 
and the waving of handkerchiefs from all the win- 
dows, gave notice that the enemy had abandoned the 
lower part of the city. 

The French hastily retreated, and as they pased 
along by the seminary wall, a deadly fire of musketry 
from within, tore open terrible gaps in their coi^sed 
and massy columns. In the mean while Sherbrooke's 
men had crossed the river into the town, and hasten- 
ing up the steep streets with " blessings breathed 
upon them, and shouts of triumphant gratulation 
and convulsive laughter, mingled with the tears and 
prayers that greeted them," came upon the enemy's 
rear, just as the drivers of five pieces of French 
artillery had pulled up hesitatingly, appalled by the 
line of musketry which they had to pass ; — a volley 



[April 19, 1834. 



from the British stretched most of the artillerymen 
on the ground, and the rest abandoned the guns. 
The allies were now in complete possession of the 
town, and the enemy fleeing in all directions. 

The French had been quite taken by surprise ; the 
unprecedented boldness of the attempt went far towards 
securing its success, for the enemy could scarcely be- 
lieve that it would be made until they saw it accom- 
plished. The British general had indeed performed 
a feat, which alone would have established for him a 
reputation of the highest order ; the enteri)rise was 
opposed by difliculties which, to any but one of equal 
genius, might have fairly appeared insurmountable : 
to borrow Colonel Napier's expression, Alexander the 
Great might have shrunk from it without shame ! 

" Our head-quarters," says the Marquess of 
Londonderry, " being established in the house which 
Soult had occupied, we found every preparation for a 
comfortable dinner in progress ; for the French 
marshal quitted the place so lately as two in the 
afternoon, long after his sumptuous meal had been 
ordered ; it will lie readily imagined that we were 
not backward in doing ample justice to it." 

The joyous feelings which the inhabitants of the 
city evinced at this welcome liberation may be easily 
conceived. " Porto," says Mr. Southey, " presented 
an extraordinary scene that night: every house was 
illuminated, while the gutters were still red with 
blood, and the streets strewn with dead bodies, both 
of horses and men. There had been three hours' 
figliting in the suburbs, and before night, the French 
wlio had fallen were stripped and left naked where 
thcj^nay; they had their plunder about them for 
removal, and they had provoked, by the most intole- 
ral)le wrongs, a revengeful people." Sir Arthur 
Wellesley, however, secured to the French prisoners 
that treatment which humanity dictated, and which 
they were entitled to by the laws of war. 

llie remainder of the British army with the bag- 
gage, stores, and artillery, was now brought over to 
Oporto, from the opposite side of the river, and as 
sDun as practicable the pursuit was commenced. 

Soult, in the mean whije, took tlie road to Amarante, 
which lay along a narrow pass, between the moun- 
tains on the left, and the Douro on the right; but 
when he had advanced some distance on this route, 
he learnt that, on the approach of Beresford, Loison 
had abandoned the bridge over the Tamega, upon 
which he had rested all his hopes of safety. 

Soult's situation now seemed desperate, and 
already some of his officers spoke of a capitulation. 
But the marshal put forth all his energy ; and learning, 
from a Spanish pedlar, that there was a path leading 
over the heights, which would conduct him to 
Guimaraeus, he immediately destroyed his artillery, 
abandoned the military chest and baggage, and 
leaving behind every thing that might encumber him, 
boldly ff)llowed his guide across the mountains, by a 
wild unbeaten track, and amid torrents of pouring 
rain. Crossing the frontier on the 18th, he entered 
Orense on the 1 9th, without guns, stores, ammunition, 
or baggage, — his numbers reduced by six thousand 
soldiers, from what they were when he quitted that 
town two months before to enter Portugal, — his 
remaining troops exhausted with fatigue and misery, 
the greatest part without shoes, many without ac- 
coutrements, and some even without muskets. 

His men committed great cruelties in tlteir flight, 
plundering and murdering the peasants at their 
pleasure. Many of the unhappy inhabitants were 
fovind by the English hanging from trees by the 
way-side, and the track of the retreating columns 
might be traced from afar, by the smoke of the 
burning houses. The revenge of the people was 
fearful ; every sick soldier or wretched straggler, who 
fell into their hands, was tortured and mutilated by 
the peasantry with the like merciless fury, and some 
of the French were thrown alive into the flames 
which their comrades had kindled. 



micE Sixpence, and 
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26™ 1S34. 

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I Onk Penny. 



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TliG Erabulrawl BoAy, 



[April 2( 


In these days of discovery and research, Egypt and 
its Antiquities have received no small share of atten- 
tion from travellers, and from those who, in the spirit 
of quiet and earnest investigation at home, are still 
throwing light on what has hitherto been obscure. 
Though it would be idle to deny the Learning of the 
Egyptians, it has been very much like a sealed book, 
with regard to whose contents conjecture has been 
thoughtfully employed. Judging, however, of the 
mighty undertakings of that extraordinary people, 
from what we now see of their relics, but left in the 
dark as to the mode in which they executed their 
operations on so grand a scale, we may fairly conclude, 
that certain inventions and improvements in arts and 
manufactures, which we call modern, were practised 
by them ; and that, on the other hand, many valu- 
able attainments familiar to the Egyptians, have 
become, by lapse of years, wholly forgotten, and are 
therefore concealed from us. 

Ancient Thebes, and its Temples. 

The City of Thebes was, perhaps, the most asto- 
nishing work ever performed by the hand of man. 
Its ruins afford the most positive proof of the 
ancient civilization of Egypt. The origin of this 
famous place is lost in the obscurity of time, it being 
coeval with the nation which first took possession of 
the country. Its extent was vast ; though its hundred 
gates, immortalized by Homer, and often interpreted 
as the gates of the city, may possibly have been the 
gates of the temples, or of the palaces of its princes. 
D'Anville and Denon state its circumference to have 
been thirty-six miles j its diameter not less than ten 
and a half. The number of inhabitants was in 
proportion to these dimensions. Diodorus says, 
that the houses were four and five stories high. 
Although Thebes had greatly fallen from its former 
splendour at the time of Cambyses the Persian, it 
was the fury of this merciless conqueror that gave 
the last blow to its grandeur, about 520 years 
before the Christian sera. He pillaged its temples, 
and carried away the ornaments of gold, silver, and 
ivory. Before this period, no city in the world could 
be compared with it in size, beauty, and wealth; and, 
according to the expression of Diodorus, The sun 
had never seen so magnificent a city. 

The temple of Karnac, the most considerable 
monument of ancient Thebes, was not less than a 
mile and a half in circumference. It is not intended 
here to furnish an account of this extraordinary 
building, from the still mighty ruins of which, we 
may gather evidence of what it once was ; but we 
may observe, as the most striking circumstance con- 
nected with the place, that a portion of the structure 
is considered to be more than four thousand years 
old, or 2272 years before the coming of Christ. 

Speaking of this magnificent edifice, and of the 
enormous sphinxes and other figures, into an avenue 
of which he had entered, Belzoni says in his enthu- 
siastic style, " I was lost in a mass of colossal objects, 
every one of which was more tlian sufficient of itself 
to attract my whole attention. I seemed alone, in 
the midst of all that is most sacred in the world'; a 
forest of enormous columns, adorned all round with 
beautiful figures and various ornaments from top 
to bottom; the graceful shape of the lotus which 
forms their cajjitals, and is so well proportioned to 
the columns ; the gates, the walls, the pedestals, the 
architraves, also adorned in every part with symbo- 
lical figures in low-relief, representing battles, pro- 
cessions, triumphs, feasts, and sacrifices, all relating 

to the ancient history of the country ; the sanctuary 
wholly formed of fine red granite ; the high portals, 
seen at a distance from the openings of this vast 
labyrinth of edifices ; the various groups of ruins of 
the other temples within sight : these altogether had 
such an effect upon my soul, as to separate me in 
imagination, from the rest of mortals, exalt me on 
high above all, and cause me to forget entirely the 
trifles and follies of life. I was happy for a whole 
day, which escaped like a flash of lightning." 

" It is absolutely impossible," again exclaims the 
same indefatigable traveller, in describing his visit to 
another temple, (Luxor,) " to imagine the scene dis- 
played, without seeing it. The most sublime ideas that 
can be formed from the most magnificent specimens of 
our present architecture, would give a very incorrect 
picture of these ruins. It appeared to me like 
entering a city of giants, who after a long conflict 
were all destroyed, leaving ruins of their various 
temples as the only proof of their former existence." 
So far Belzoni : and in this he is borne out by the 
learned Frenchman, Champollion, who speaks of 
Thebes in terms of equal admiration. " All that I 
had seen, all that I had learned on the left bank, 
appeared miserable in comparison with the gigantic 
conceptions by which I was surrounded at Karnac. 
I shall take care not to attempt to describe any 
thing ; for either my description would not express 
the thousandth part of what ought to be said, or if 
I drew a faint sketch, I should be taken for an 
enthusiast, or perhaps, for a madman. It will suffice 
to add, that no people, either ancient or modern, ever 
conceived the art of architecture on so sublime, and 
so grand a scale, as the ancient Egyptians. Their 
conceptions were those of men a hundred feet high." 
After Karnac and Luxor, the next grand building 
at Thebes was the Memnonium ; that is, the tomb or 
palace of one of the Pharaohs, whom the Greeks 
supposed to be the same as Memnon. In the 
middle of the first court was the largest figure ever 
raised by the Egyptians, — the statue of the monarch, 
seventy-five feet high. Behind it, there was an en- 
trance which led into a second court, surrounded by 
porticos supported by fifty other colossuses; and at 
the end of several porticos and different apartments 
was the celebrated library, at the entrance of which 
was an inscription, signifying ' The medicine of the 

Belzoni, in his travels, gives a most interesting 
account of his discovering and opening the great 
tomb of Psammuthis at Thebes. He made on the 
spot drawings of all the figures, hieroglyphics, and 
ornaments in the sepulchre, and took impressions in 
wax, — a most laborious task, which occupied him 
more than a twelvemonth. The personal vigour of 
this enterprising traveller, guided by uncommon intel- 
ligence and energy, enabled him to accomphsh objects 
which had before never been thought of, or had been 
attempted in vain. On his arrival in England, he 
constructed, and exhibited, a perfect fac-simile of the 
tomb, which some of our readers will, doubtless, 
recollect having seen. 

The Alabaster Sarcophagus. 
It was in the tomb of Psammuthis, in the centre of the 
saloon, that Belzoni found the beautiful Alabaster 
Sarcophagus. This magnificent remnant of ancient 
days, which, most probably, once contained a royal 
mummy, has not its equal in the world. It is of the 
finest Oriental alabaster, nine feet five inches long, 
and three feet seven inches wide; and, though of con- 
siderable thickness, is highly transparent : this may 
be proved on placing a light within. It is minutely 
and richly sculptured, inside and outside, with several 




hundred figures, of about two inches high, and at the 
bottom, within, is a graceful form, carved in outline, 
of the human shape and size, supposed to represent 
one of the numerous deities worshipped by the 
nations of early Egypt. This rich treasure is in the 
possession of Sir John Soane, in his Museum in Lin- 
cohi's Inn Fields, and remains altogether unrivalled 
in beauty and curiosity. 

In considering these astonishing works, we can 
scarcely doubt the deserved eminence of the ancient 
Egj-ptians in the arts and sciences. Indeed, some of 
the most illustrious characters of Greece ; Homer, 
Pythagoras, Plato, Lycurgus, and Solon, are said to 
have travelled thither to complete their studies, and to 
draw from that source whatever was most valuable 
in every kind of knowledge. But the Holy Scrip- 
tures themselves have incidentally given this testi- 
mony, when they speak of Moses as being learned in 
all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and mighty in words 
and deeds. CActs vii. 22.) Yet we wonder how the 
history of a people, which was once so great as to 
erect these mighty edifices, could be so far obscured, 
that even their language and method of writing are 
in a great degree unknown to us. 

Much has indeed been done of late, in deciphering 
hieroglyphics ; and with the knowledge of them 
which is now gained, it may be hoped, that ere long, 
this picture-language of ancient Egypt may be read 
with correctness and certainty. The labours of 
M. Champollion in this department are well known. 
Among Englishmen, Mr. Wilkinson, an intelligent 
traveller, who has examined the tombs in Thebes, 
has pursued the subject with perseverance, and a 
gratifying degree of success. It was clear, that no 
master-key to these hidden stores could be obtained, 
unless some ancient inscription were found, written 
in hieroglyphics, as well as in some known language. 
Now, it so happens, that a stone of this kind actually 
exists among us; the celebrated Rosetta stone, 
found by the French in digging for the foundation 
of Fort St. Julian, near Rosetta. It is a large black 
stone, containing three inscriptions of the same 
import; namely, one in hieroglyphics, another in tlie 
ancient and common characters of the country, and 
another in Greek. Though imperfect, the stone 
being broken, the writing is sufficiently ample to 
form a most valuable guide in further researches. 
The visiter to the British Museum, may see in the 
Ninth Room, No. 65, this invaluable specimen, which 
records a decree of the Egyptian priests, in honour of 
Ptolemy Epiphanes ; the leading events of his reign ; 
his liberality to the temples; his conquests over 
certain rebellious subjects; his clemency towards 
some of the traitors : the measures he took against 
the fatal consequences of an excessive inundation of 
the Nile, and his generosity towards the College of 
the Priests. Proceeding upon this and other docu- 
ments, Champollion published in 1824, his Precis du 
Systhne Hieroglyphique, a work of high interest and 
value, as affording light on some of the most intri- 
cate points that can engage the attention of the 

- Sculpture. 
But our admiration of ancient Eg>-ptian skill will 
increase, when we take into account the nature 
of the materials on which they worked, in raising 
their temples, obelisks, and statues. The stones, 
particularly the granite and the breccia, are ex- 
tremely hard, and we do not know with what tools 
they were cut. The tools of the present day will not 
eut granite without much difficulty ; and there is a 

great doubt, whether we could give it the fine smooth 
surface, and sharp clear edge, which we see so perfect 
in these ancient remains, some of which, in this 
respect, may be said to look as if they had been 
finished but yesterday. For an illustration of this, 
we may refer our readers to an admirable specimen 
of Egyptian sculpture in the British Museum, Ninth 
Room, No. 66. It consists of the head, and upper 
part of the body, of a colossal figure, brought from 
the Memnonium, and thence probably called, by 
mistake, the " Younger Memnon j" while the statue of 
the genuine Memnon, famous for his concert of Music 
at sun-rise, still exists at Thebes. The fragment, 
however, to which we have adverted, is well worthy of 
inspection, conveying a remarkable instance of preser- 
vation as a rehc of art, and, at the same time, of the 
simple and pleasing expression of the Egyptian coun- 

The Pyramids. 
We must not here omit to touch, however briefly, 
on those " mysterious buildings*," The PYRAMinsi 
as amazing monuments of power and industry. These 
structures have generally been viewed as relics of 
antiquity, and matters of curiosity only; but they 
are also important as furnishing a striking illustration 
of a portion of Sacred History. For various reasons, 
into which we have not room to enter at present, 
they may be supposed to have formed a portion of 
the labours of the Israelites before the Exodus ; and 
we may rationally conjecture that Pharaoh — that is, 
one of the Pharaohs t, " the king who knew not 
Joseph," set the people to execute these works under 
task-masters, from a fear of their increasing numbers 
and strength. 

It is intended, in a future number, to give some 
account of the proficiency of the ancient Egyptians 
in various manufactures, and to add, under the head 
of Egyptian Antiquities, a short notice respecting 
Mummies; when we propose saying something re- 
specting the figures at the head of the present 

• For a view and memoir of the Pyramids, see the Saturday 
Magazine, Vol. I., pp. 137-8; and for an account of the Cavern 
Temples and Tombs, Vol. II., p. 249 

t Pharaoh is a title of honour, and was applied to severa. 
Egyptian kings successively, for a very long period of time. 


Child of the latter days! thy words have broken 
A spell that long has bound these lungs of clay. 

For since this smoke-dried tongue of mine hath spoken, 
Three thousand tedious years have rolled away. 

Unswathed at length, 1 ** stand at ease" before ye. 

List, then, oh ! list, while I unfold my story. 

Thebes was my birth-place — an unrivalled city. 
With many gates, but here I might declare 

Some strange plain truths, except that it were pity 
To blow a poet's fabric into air; 

Oh ! I could read you quite a Theban lecture. 

And give a deadly finish to conjecture. 

But then you would not have me throw discredit 
On grave historians — or on him who sung 

TiiE Iliad — true it is I never read it, 

But heard it read when I was very young ; 

An old blind mmstrel, for a trifling profit, 

Recited parts — I think the author of it. 

All that I know about the town of Homer 
Is, that they scarce would own him in his day. 

Were glad, too, when he proudly turned a roamer. 
Because by this they saved their parish-pay ; 

His townsmen would have been ashamed to Bout him, 

Had they foreseen the fuss since made about him. 

One blunder I can fairly set at rest. 

He says that men were once more big and bony 

Than now, which is a bouncer at the bes* 
I'll just refer you to our friend Belzoni, 

Near seven feet high! in sooth a lofty figure! 

Now look at me, and tell me, am I bigger? 

* See the Addbess to thx Muuur, p. 7S of Ihii Volunw 

116— 2 



[April 26, 

Not half the size • but then I'm sadly dwindled ; 

Three thousand years, with that embalming glue, 
Have made i. serious difference, and have swindled 

My face of all its beauty — there were few 
Egyptian youths more gay, — behold the sequel. 
Nay smile not, you and 1 may soon be equal ! 

For this lean hand did one day hurl the lance 

With mortal aim — this light fantastic toe 
Threaded the mystic mazes of the dance ; 

This heart hath throbbed at tales of love and wod, 
These shreds of raven hair once set the fashion. 
This withered form inspir'd the tender passion. 

In vain! the skilful hand, and feelmgs warm. 

The foot that figur'd in the bright quadrille, 
The palm of genius and the manly form. 

All bowed at once to Death's mysterious will. 
Who sealed me up where Mummies sound are sleeping. 
In cere-cloth, and in tolerable keeping. 

Where cows and monkies squat in rich brocade. 
And well-dress'd crocodiles in pa.nled cases. 

Rats, bats, and owls, and cats in masquerade. 
With scarlet flounces and with varmsh'd faces ; 

Men, birds, brutes, reptiles, fish, all cramm'd together* 
With ladies that might pass for well-tanned leather. 

Where Rameses and Sabacon lie down. 

And splendid Psammis in his hide of crust; 
Piinces and heroes, men of high renown, 

Who in their day kicked up a mighty dust, — 
Their swarthy Mummies kicked up dust in numbers. 
When huge Belzoni came to scare their slumbers t ' 

Who'd think these rusty hams of mine were seated 

At Dido's J table, when the wond'rous tale 
Of " Juno's hatred" was so well repeated? 

And ever and anon the queen turned pale ; 
Meanwhile the brilliant gas-lights, liung above her, 
'I'lirew a wild glare upon her shipwrecked lover. 

Aye, gas-lights! mock me not ; we men of yore 
Were versed in all the knowledge you can mention , 

Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore? 
Her patient toil ? acuteness of invention t 

Survey the proofs, — our Pyramids are thriving, — 

Old Memnon still looks young, and I'm surviving 

A land in arts and sciences prolific. 

On blocks gigantic building up her fame ! 
Crowded with signs, and letters hieroglyphic, 

Temples and obelisks her skill proclaim ! 
Yet, though her art and toil unearthly seem. 
Those blocks were brought on rail-roads and by steam ! 

How, when, and why, our people came to rear 

The Pyramid of Cheops §, mighty pile! 
This, and the other secrets thou shall hear; 

I will unfold if thou wilt stay awhile, 
The hist'ry of the Sphinx, and who began it. 
Our mystic marks, and monsters made of granite. 

Well, then, in grievous times, when king Cephrenes 

But, ha! what's this? — The shades of bards and kings 

Press on my lips their fingers ! What they mean is, 
I am not to reveal these hidden things. 

Mortal, farewell ! Till Science' self unbind them, 

Men must e'en take these secrets as they fi/id them. 


• See Belzoni's Travels. 

+ " After the exertion ot entering into & burial-place, through a passage 
of six-hundred yard* in lengtli, nearly overcome, I sought a resting-place, 
found oue, and contrived to sit ; but wtieu my weight bore on the bo<iy of an 
Egyptian, it crushed it like a band-box. I then had recourse to my hands to 
sustain my weight, hut tliey found no support. So I sank among the broken 
mummies with a crash of boues, rags, and woo<len cases, wliich altogether 
riised such a-dust, as kept me motionless for a quarter of an hour, waiting 
till it had subsided." Belzoni. 

t Should the reader detect some slight anachronism in the Mummy's 
.Answer, he will please to remember, that in jwint of chronology Virgil 
himself was not particular about a century or two. His, as well as Ovid's 
poetical fiction, representing ^neas as living iu the age of Dido, involves an 
error of this kind, of nearly 300 years. 

( This, the largest of the Pyramids, was reckoned one of the Seven 
Wonders of the World. 


On the 24th of July, the people about Rabba, in 
Africa, were every where employed in collecting the 
fruit of the Shea Trees, from which they prepare 
the vegetable butter. 

These trees grow in great abundance all over 
this part of Bambarra. They are not planted by 
the natives, but are found growing naturally in the 
woods ; and, in clearing wood-land for cultivation, 
every tree is cut down but the Shea. 

The tree very much resembles the American oak, 
and the fruit, from the kernel of which, being first 
dried in the sun, the butter is prepared by boiling the 
kernel in water, has somewhat the appearance of a 
Spanish olive. The kernel is enveloped in a sweet 

pulp, under a thin green rind ; and the butter pro- 
tiuced from it, besides the advantage of its keeping 
the whole year without salt, is whiter, firmer, and, tt. 
my palate, of a richer flavour than the best butter 1 
ever tasted made from cows' milk. The growth and 
preparation of this commodity seem to be among the 
first objects of African industry, in this and the 
neighbouring states, and it constitutes a main article 
of their inland commerce. The aimexed Engraving 


represents the specimen I gathered. The appearance 
of the fruit evidently places the Shea-tree in the 
natural order of Sapotee; and it has some resemblance 
to the Maduca-tree, described by Lieut. Charles 
Hamilton, in the Asiatic Researches. — Mungo Park. 

After breakfast I proceeded to visit the mines, 
clothed in a suitable dress ; and with a staff in my 
hand, and preceded by flambeau.x, I followed my 
conductor into the mine. The visit commences with 
a descent of three hundred steps, when one may 
fairly believe himself in the bowels of the motuitain. 

'Tis a strange empire one finds in these dismal 
abodes : life is a different thing when sun-light is 
withdrawn ; and there is an icy feeling falls upon the 
heart, as well as on the senses, when we look around 
these dismal galleries and dark walls, dimly lighted 
by a few ineffectual flambeaux, that convey truly the 
idea of " darkness visible ;" and scan the dark sub- 
terranean lakes, whose extent and profundity the eye 
cannot guess but by the plunge of a fragment of the 
roof, and the dim glimmer of the lights ; and hear 
the distant stroke of the miner's axe, far in the inte- 
rior of the caverns. Still more do we feel the dif- 
ference between the world above and regions such as 
these, when we reach the solitary miner, in some vast 
cavern, with his single candle, striking his axe ever 
and ever into the dull wall. But, along with these 
feelings, astonishment and admiration are engendered, 
at the power of man, whose perseverance has hollowed 
out the motintain ; and with his seemingly feeble in- 
struments — his human arms and little axe — has 
waged war with the colossal works of nature. 

The results are, indeed, almost incredible. No 
fewer than forty-eight caverns have been formed, 
each from one to two acres in size. One of the 
galleries is three leagues in length ; and I was assured 
that, to traverse all the galleries, six whole days 
would be required. — Inglis's Tt/rol. 




The Rhamnus Lotus of Linnteus, (Pentandria mono- 
gyniaj of which the annexed Engraving is a repre- 
sentation (though the leaves of the desert shrub are 
much smaller), is the Lotus of the ancients, of which 
it was commonly said, that those who ate of the 
fruit of it, forgot their native country, which is, 
perhaps, a poetical allusion to the ease and supposed 
comfort and happiness of a people, whose country 
produced fruit for them, without the labour of rais- 
ing it. 

This tree or shrub is disseminated over the edge 
of the Great Desert, from the coast of Cyrene, round 
by Tripoli and Africa proper, to the borders of 
the Atlantic, the Senegal, and the Niger. It bears 
small farinaceous berries, of a yellow colour, and 
delicious taste, called by the negroes Tomberongs. 
These berries are much esteemed by the natives, who 
convert them into a sort of bread, by exposing them, 
for some days, to the sun, and afterwards pounding 
them gently in a wooden mortar, until the farinaceous 
peirt of the berry is separated from the stone. This 
meal is then mixed with a little water, and formed 
into cakes, which, when dried in the sun, resemble, 
in colour and flavour, the sweetest ginger-bread. 
The stones are afterwards put into a vessel of water, 
and shaken about, so as to separate the meal which 
may adhere to them : this communicates a sweet and 
agreeable taste to the water, and, with the addition of 
a little pounded millet, forms a pleasant gruel called 
Fondi, which is the common breakfast in many parts 
of Sundamar, during the months of February and 
March. The fruit is collected by spreading a cloth 
upon the ground, and beating the branches with a 


As this shrub is found in Tunis, and also in the 
Negro kingdoms, and as it furnishes the natives of 
the latter with a food resembling bread, and also 
with a sweet liquor, which is much relished by them, 
there can be little doubt of its being the Lotus men- 
tioned by Pliny, as the food of the Libyan Lotophagi. 
An army may very well have been fed with the bread 
I have tasted, made of the meal of the fruit, as is 
said by Pliny to have been done in Libya; and as 
the taste of the bread is sweet and agreeable, it is 
not likely the soldiers would complain of it. — Mungo 
Park and Rennell. L. C. 

Hb that is fiood, will infallibly become better, and he that 
is bail, will as certainly become worse; for virtue, vice, 
and time, are three things that never stand still. Colton. 

Oua English chroniclers represent William Rufus, 
on every occasion on which he used strong language, 
as employing an oath, " By St. Luke's face." Rapin 
and others call it his favourite oath. This is a very 
curious mistake, originating in a mistranslation of 
the Latin phrase of some ancient historian, probably 
Eadmer, or William of Mahncsbury. " He swore," 
say they, "^)er vultum de Lucca, by the face of, or 
at Lucca, without the shadow of a reference to the 
Evangelist." The inquiry into this curious fact opens 
a passage of English history more fully than it i-s 
usually presented to us. 

William the Second was a very headstrong and 
irreligious man, reckless of Providence, with un- 
governable passions, self-willed, blind to danger, 
and regardless of duty. On one occasion of his 
employing the oath in question, these qualities 
showed themselves so prominently, and they so 
clearly develope the character of the man, that I 
take leave to insert the narrative more at length 
than the bare explanation of his oath might require. 

The king was in the full enjoyment of a hunting- 
party when a messenger, from beyond sea, brought 
him tidings that a town which had lately fallen into 
his hands was besieged by the enemy. Instantly, 
equipped as he was for the chase, he turned his 
horse's head, and made for the sea. On his attend- 
ants' suggesting the propriety of waiting till his 
forces could be collected and marshalled, he scorn- 
fully replied, " I shall see who will follow me. 
Think ye I shall not have an army." He arrived at 
the coast almost alone. The wind was contrary, the 
weather stormy, and the sea in dreadful agitation. 
Resolved to pass over at the moment, when the 
mariners remonstrated and implored him to wait for 
a less foul sea and sky, he exclaimed impetuously, 
" I never yet heard of a king perishing by shipwreck ; 
loose the cables, I say, instantly. You shall see the 
elements conspire in their obsequiousness to me. " 
William crossed in safety, and